


The Sovereign's Darkflame

by LadyTyrannica



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Aggressive, Ben Wa Balls, Consent, Cunnilingus, Erotic, F/F, Fantasy, Fingerfucking, Grinding, Happy Ending, Kissing, Lesbian, Long, Love, Mage, Magic, Passion, Romance, Sex, Sexual Inexperience, dragon - Freeform, female - Freeform, virgin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:13:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 54,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTyrannica/pseuds/LadyTyrannica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A friendship forged in secret becomes more than Syndra ever imagined as the charming half-dragon named Shyvana makes a bid for her heart. The sovereign finds herself tumbling into a part of her humanity she'd never expected to fall into as their relationship deepens.</p><p>Episodic content design, each chapter is self-contained but fitting of a larger narrative.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ionian Revelry

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, thank you for reading my story! I'm always interested in critique or design questions about the work, especially on sections you may feel could've been better designed or didn't 'quite nail the message'. Let me know in a comment/review if it pleases you.
> 
> Enjoy the story~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Syndra has invited her friend Shyvana to attend the Ionian Revelry with her. Yet, on the evening of their night out, an awkward encounter leads to a surprising revelation as Syndra finds herself receiving of affection she'd never imagined.

_Potential bubbles beneath the surface, waiting for the smallest kindling._

 

*~*

 

Night had come to Ionia, and at long last, a celebration that had once followed year after year. As the sun sank below the horizon, flames lit braziers, colorful lanterns sprang up, and magic of all kinds went into the air. Drums beat along the street, drawing crowds to their marching dances while actors ran about, silent beneath their animalistic costumes. Others, more humble in their vendor ware, lined walkways and corners, offering treats and wondrous challenges for the discerning warrior in waiting.

 

These moments were one of the few times Syndra ever saw her people happy in earnest lately. The war with Noxus had cast a shadow over all of Ionia, even here in the farthest eastern fringes. One could go nowhere without hearing a part of it in conversation, or the fear that gripped her people despite the war’s end.

 

 _At least we can still do this,_ she thought, sipping her tea.

 

A flash of light shot through the wood-barred window, swiftly followed by a muffled crack and pop. Her eyes turned toward it, gazing out into the night sky as a few errant fireworks exploded overhead. What patterns their red-white explosions made she couldn’t tell from her angle. Still, she found it pretty to watch for the few seconds they hung in the sky.

 

Her glowing eyes turned away as the moonlight returned, and Syndra stared down at the dinner table once more. The same oaken frame as before with its embedded cherry wood top, wondrously polished and sealed in. _What is taking her so long?_ the sovereign wondered, idly tracing her finger on her tea cup.

 

Syndra refilled it twice by now and still _she_ was nowhere to be found. With a frown, she brought the cup up and downed the tea at once, not really tasting it. At least the lukewarm drink gave her something to do. Her hand, half way to the tea pot, stopped as she caught herself.

 

_No, no. I will spoil dinner._

 

Perhaps, then, she’d look around the room again. The rather high quality, pricy, _reserved_ room she got for just this evening. Its cream colored walls and their fanciful, iconographic drawings of forests and meadows was nice. The first time around, anyway. Syndra couldn’t help stopping on the thick paper door, scrutinizing its wooden frame accusingly.

 

Maybe if she concentrated _really hard_ , she’d arrive. At least, not enough so that her magic will wake up—it’d be rather awkward destroying the door on accident. She hadn’t done that since she was five, at least. The shoji remained shut tight and Syndra sighed.

 

_I suppose I will order._

 

Heavy footsteps reached her ears the moment she decided. This particular room, situated on the far side of the restaurant, was at the end of the hall, which meant it was coming here. Syndra sat up from her slight slouch, neatly smoothing out her cherry pink dress at the same time. A quick pull of the collar, some fluffing of the sleeves, and she readied herself, regal as ever, by the time the door opened.

 

“You didn’t say you’d be _all_ the way back here!”

 

The gruff, deep, and feminine voice danced in Syndra’s ears. She regarded the woman with a cool indifference. For what she had expected, a snug set of pants with the upper body of a dress, sleeves and all, wasn’t one of them. The sovereign boggled at the strange, almost contradictory sight. _At least she matched the red and white colors?_

 

“You were told the room at the end of the hall, Shyvana,” she remarked, her brow inching upward by the second.

 

“Yeah, there’s five halls.”

 

Waving her hand dismissively at the notion, Syndra beckoned to be joined. She watched the dragon approach, climbing the three little stairs up to her. The whole spectacle struck her as _odd_ , seeing the purple-skinned and scaled woman in something other than her rigid armor. The lighter hues of indigo showed much clearer now, much to her surprise. Fuller, and far more tempting to the eye.

 

Her smaller size—only a head shorter, really—became much more apparent. On the other, the raw power that bubbled beneath within dragon seemed much more … pure. Syndra struggled to put her finger on it exactly. Somehow, despite appearing almost ‘naked’ without her armor, Shyvana remained as imposingly powerful as always. The dragon sat down on the other side of the table, using that unbecoming cross-legged sit she liked. Two golden eyes caught hers, and a sardonic smirk etched its way across Shyvana’s serious face.

 

“What’s with that staring, hm?”

 

“I do not stare,” Syndra defended, her nose slightly upturned. “I am merely astonished.”

 

“Never seen a woman in a dress before?”

 

“I am not sure pants qualify as a dress, but, no. For the longest time, I had wondered—“ she absently gestured at the dragon “—if that armor of yours came off or not.”

 

A snortful laugh ripped out of Shyvana. “What? You sit around fantasizing about my armor coming off?”

 

Syndra paused for a brief moment. _You would be surprised._

 

While it would be all too funny to say, but far more impolite than she liked. “I remind you I know little of real dragons. For all I know, it might indeed have been your actual body.”

 

“Psssh. Please. Rest assured that it does come off, then!” With a lift of her arms over her head, Shyvana struck a pose. The long sleeves of her dress slipped down, exposing more of her scaly, purple-skinned arms. It was indecent by Ionian standard, yet Syndra stared all the same.

 

 _She’s quite … strong,_ she marveled, a hint of Shyvana’s muscular biceps adding to her already convincing forearms. Every twitch and move of her arms only served to demonstrate how utterly defined they really were. “Y-yes, yes,” the sovereign grumbled, if only to disguise her interest. Shyvana shot a grin at her, but set herself in a more decent posture.

 

“I don’t wear heavy armor for nothing, you know.”[][]

 

“I would imagine so,” Syndra said, her words half-swallowed by the tea cup she sipped from.

 

Shyvana squinted at the assembled ceramic set with its two pots and four cups. “Is this all tea?”

 

“Yes.” Syndra smirked at the distasteful frown that followed the answer. “You will be pleased to note I had one of the more sweet varieties prepared.” While her cup set down, she pointed with her free hand at the untouched pot and its tray. A faint, dark purple glow surrounded the white ceramic, and the tea set lifted off the table. They gently glided from the center to in front of Shyvana, setting down with a quiet clink.

 

“Sweet, she says.” Shyvana unceremoniously leaned forward and plucked the pot’s lid off, and gave it a curious sniff. “There’s honey, right? This doesn’t smell sweet to me.”

 

“Do you only drink pure sweetness?” Syndra retorted. “But, yes, there is _sugar_ in the one beside it.”

 

“Beer, ale, and a good mead. A woman doesn’t need anything else. I don’t know how you stand this … leafy, plant water.”

 

“Perhaps I should have them bring out all the wine, then.”

 

Some sort of unagreeable sound came out of the dragon while she took a tentative sip of the sweet tea. Her nose curled unhappily at first, but when the tea cup came down, an indecisive yet hopeful curl of her thin brows told a different story. “Where is the food, anyway? There’d be rows of it already out in Demacia.”

 

“And this is not Demacia.” Syndra clicked her tongue, but smirked anyway. “ _This_ is a luxurious restaurant.”

 

“The hell is a ‘restaurant’?”

 

“You sit down, and a waiter comes for your order after reviewing the menu.”

 

Utter bemusement overcame Shyvana. “Alright, so how do we order?”

 

“… A better question begins with, ‘Where are the menus’?” Syndra mused aloud, looking around the table. Frowning, she sighed and clapped her hands loudly. Half a minute later, a knock came from the door in a familiar pattern.

 

“Bring the waiter,” Syndra commanded to her unseen servant, and the shadow behind the shoji bowed in acknowledgement.

 

“Wait, so you can order anything you want?” Shyvana inquired, curiosity about her when she leaned forward.

 

“You can order what is on the menu. Some chefs will do requests, if they the means and skill to do so.”

 

“That’s so weird. Not bad weird, or anything!” A purple-skinned hand waved hurriedly. “Why not just have everything out to eat?”

 

“Food is another form of art in Ionia. The skills of one chef differ from another, and even two restaurants side-by-side can serve very different styles.”

 

“You telling me I could eat a steak, then go over and eat another, more different steak?”

 

“In simple terms, yes,” Syndra returned dryly. She blinked at the dreamy eyed look that overcame Shyvana, a ridiculous sort of giddiness to her she’d never seen before. The sovereign bit her lip, but her cheeks puffed with repressed laughter.

 

“Ionia is amazing,” Shyvana drawled with an over the top ridiculousness.

 

That sparkly, wide-eyed stare and comical voice tickled Syndra right into a bellyful laugh. Her hand flew to her mouth in a vain effort to stifle it, and she had to lean onto the table. Shyvana returned to her more normal seriousness after that, a wry grin to her while Syndra struggled to calm down.

 

“Got ya.”

 

“Please.” Syndra wiped her eyes, mindful of the light makeup. “Shall I take you to every restaurant? I am sure they would enjoy hosting a dragon.”

 

“Maybe another night.” Shyvana’s thin blue lips, painted in a slight hue of red, spread in a devious smile. “Be careful, I might eat you out of house and home.”

 

“You are welcome to try.”

 

Golden eyes widened in earnest surprise.

 

Their banter was interrupted by the shoji sliding open. Her servant returned, beckoning in a finely dressed, older man in Ionian server wear of an oversized shirt and pants. He gave a quarter bow before ascending the steps and gently placing two menus upon the table. With a smile, he stepped back down, his gaze politely upon the floor while he waited.

 

With a flourish of her hand, Syndra held her palm open and the menu flew into it. She unrolled the small scroll, scrutinizing its single page listing. An irritable grunt came from Shyvana, who did much the same. Without moving her head, the sovereign’s eyes flicked up.

 

“Is something the matter?”

 

“Yeah, ‘bout that.” Shyvana awkwardly flipped the scroll over, showing Syndra the menu. “Magic might let me speak your tongue, kind of, not read it.”

 

A vexed feeling made Syndra’s brow crease. _That would be an issue._

 

“If I might,” the servant interjected, his old voice low and proper. Their eyes turned to him, and at Syndra’s rising gesture, he stood up a bit straighter, his eyes on Shyvana. “I know every meal by heart. What might interest you, my good lady?”

 

With a thoughtful hum, the dragon’s fingers idly picked at her chin. “Steak and chicken … lots of ‘em.”

 

“A few come to mind. Would you care to try any fish tonight?”

 

Shyvana’s lips curled distastefully. “Unless you caught it yesterday, I doubt it’s any good.”

 

A smile, one might be at a stretch to call it ‘smug’, crossed the servant’s face. “Would today’s catch suffice?”

 

“… Sure, why not.”

 

Syndra was grateful she had enough tact not to ask if it was fresh. Though the server turned a curious gaze toward her, she regarded him dispassionately. Over the next few minutes, she drilled out her order of food and wine. It took a couple minutes more to convince him yes, she did in fact want an order size enough for six people. If she hadn’t seen Shyvana’s appetite first hand, she would’ve been just as incredulous.

 

“Heh. That’s still weird,” Shyvana grumbled after the server departed.

 

“What is?”

 

“People looking at me like I’m not a flick of scum off a Noxian boot.”

 

“I have told you that—“

  
“Yes, yes, dragons are highly respected, blah blah blah. It’s still weird.”

 

Syndra squinted from being cut off, but settled for rolling her eyes. “If you are still unconvinced, I can arrange for the Elders in charge of the festival to know.” Shyvana’s captivating gaze shot toward hers, abject shock in them. “A dragon guest would have _everyone_ coming to see you.”

 

“You-you’re just messing with me, aren’t you?” the dragon accused, pointing at Syndra dramatically.

 

“… Perhaps.” Syndra hid her smile behind a sip of tea, but she couldn’t stop it from widening at Shyvana’s huff. Still, when she lowered the cup, her eyes lingered on her dear friend. Despite the strange mix of sleeved dress and pants, a particularly _feminine_ taste hung about the dragon. It wasn’t completely loose, rather hugging to Shyvana’s muscular frame in a few eye-catching spots on her shoulders and hips.

 

She was so much smaller looking and altogether an alluring woman to gaze upon. Syndra hurriedly disguised her inspection when Shyvana caught her staring, absently waving her hand. “In all seriousness, do not be so surprised. Even I am taken, with quite the intrigue, by the stunning beauty you possess.”

 

Verbosity had its uses, as far as Syndra was concerned, especially when magical translation got stuck in it.

 

Shyvana, half-way to a frown, looked at her skeptically. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“I am only saying that, here in Ionia, you will find eyes not only because you are a dragon. Do not tell me that is so strange?” The sovereign merely inclined her head and took another sip of tea. Syndra hadn’t planned this ill-formed idea all the way through. All she wanted was to give a simple compliment, now those eyes were fixated quite firmly on her.

 

“When you can count with both hands the number of people who do that, yeah, it’s strange,” Shyvana said with utter seriousness. She cracked a smile when Syndra balked, however. “You’re sweet, though. At least someone appreciates when I wear a stupid dress.”

 

“Half a dress,” Syndra muttered while pouring more tea, if only to distract herself.

 

“This is a _half_ -dress, on a _half-dragon_?”

 

Syndra’s face scrunched to a point of sheer, incredulous pain for just a moment, and Shyvana’s throaty laugh filled the room. She fought the urge to smile, lest she give the woman more reason to continue. “I thought you despised that,” she noted with a touch of airy politeness.

 

“No point denying it.”

 

“If you say so.” An ambivalent effort, but Syndra knew well how volatile the subject truly was. “Nonetheless, I will, ahem, thank you, for accompanying me this evening.”

 

“Ehh? Isn’t that my job?” Shyvana scoffed with a shrug of her shoulders. “You invited _me_.”

 

“Of course. You were not going to take me anywhere in Ionia otherwise.”

 

Shyvana held up a finger, a sort of ‘wait, hold on’ look crossing her furrowed brow. Whatever answer she may have come up with was cut off by a knock at the shoji. Shortly after, the server returned, accompanied by younger looking people with trays and trays of food. Her eyes—quite literally—lit up at the sight.

 

The servers set the food out in neat, curved rows, with meat in the center, and vegetables and noodles off to the sides. Three trays were set before Syndra, while over ten struggled to find a sensible place in front of Shyvana. All of them were quiet during their work, but Syndra could see their curious eyes shooting back and forth.

 

Her scowl sped them up, and in a few short minutes, the room was empty once more. Only then did she lean forward to take a dainty sniff of the meal, and an almost painful rush of mouthwatering hunger struck. She reached into her dress and retrieved a silky white napkin, covering her mouth.

 

Shyvana, meanwhile, was already shoveling different foods onto her plate.

 

Syndra’s eye twitched as it continued to pile up. “You will ruin the flavor by doing that.”

 

“Eh?” Shyvana blinked at her, a food plate tilted to drop more onto hers. “Really?”

 

“… I can name six dishes alone that should not be mixed together. Just, try to eat them on their own plates first.”

 

“Why bother cooking food then?”

 

“I cannot imagine even Demacians find the idea of plated food _strange._ ” Syndra squinted at Shyvana, who stuck her tongue out at her. Nonetheless, the dragon seemed to settle for what she had and sat back, staring at her expectantly. “What is it?”

 

“Aren’t you going to do that, you know, dinner ritual? Whatever Ionian’s call it.”

 

“It is a prayer, as you know—“ Her smile froze as her brain caught up with what the rest of her mouth was saying. Shyvana smacked the table as she guffawed, nearly knocking her drink over in the process. Though she shut up quickly to save the cup, the snarky little laugh didn’t leave. Syndra squinted at her all the while, wanting to be annoyed, yet finding it hard to do so.

 

There was something in the way the dragon laughed. Mocking, certainly, but friendly, and despite her normally intimidating exterior, she looked at ease. A little flutter passed through Syndra when she realized she stared too long, and the sovereign turned to her food. Perhaps, in selecting the plates for her opening meal, she might disguise her inadvertent ogling.

 

_How I entertain this bothersome fancy of mine …_

 

*~*

 

“Thank you for coming!” the restaurant staff sang in a chorus behind them as they left.

 

Cool night air washed over them, and Syndra hurriedly lifted herself from the ground, hovering a few inches. “Hmph! It is far colder than it should be this time of year.”

 

“Ah, but it’s so nice!” Shyvana stretched her arms overhead, leaning back a little as well. Her already well-fit dress clung tighter to her, if such a thing were possible. “Cold is good for me! Not so much a _high class_ lady like you, hm?”

 

“I am dressed well enough for it,” Syndra said finally, her nose a little upturned.

 

Attendants shuffled out of the restaurant behind them, heads bowed. “Where to next, my lady?” the leader asked.

 

Dutiful and loyal, but they irritated her on the occasion. Syndra waved her hand dismissively. “You are all free for the evening. Enjoy the festival, and return to the fortress before dawn.”

 

“If you will it so, my lady, but who will escort you?”

 

The others shuffled together behind the leader, looking to one another.

 

“You are dismissed.”

 

They bowed at Syndra’s command and hurriedly left down the street.

 

“If you wanted alone time with me, you could’ve just asked,” Shyvana remarked, arms folded behind her head.

 

“I do not ask,” Syndra shot back. “It either is, or is not. Now, accompany me, there is more I want to show you.”

 

"Yes, my lady, right away,” Shyvana said with a mocking accent. Nonetheless, she fell in step beside the sovereign, grinning at the sidelong glance going her way.

 

“Do not say such a thing lightly,” Syndra warned with a dark tone, eyes narrowed. “I might become used to hearing it.”

 

“Eh?”

 

A victory for her. Syndra fought to keep her smirk from spreading.

 

In leaving the side street the restaurant sat in, they reached one of the few main thoroughfares of the town. The central part was more planned than by happenstance with its neat rows and grid-like layout, giving the people easy-to-navigate roads. For them, the modest crowds and hustling merchants didn’t pay much attention. There were those curious souls, however, with far too much free time that soon saw them.

 

“There’s the staring again,” Shyvana muttered under her breath, loud enough Syndra could hear.

 

“Does it bother you?”

 

“Fear I can live with, but those kids look like they wanna tackle me to the ground.”

 

Syndra blinked, and as subtly as possible, followed Shyvana’s weary look. A small gathering of what might be two or three families sat ahead and across the street. The children animatedly pointed toward them, earning scolds from their parents, but drawing their curious eyes too. “These _are_ the eastern provinces …”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“The Endless Sea borders much of these lands. Perhaps they believe you a water born spirit, come to give good blessings to the festival?”

 

“… because of my skin?”

 

Syndra stared back at her.

 

“Right, of course.”

 

They continued on. A bell tolled in the distance.

 

“Would their parents really let them?”

 

A different sort of tone sat in Shyvana’s voice: hard sounding, but lacking the weight of such. Syndra weighed what words to use, only finding them after they had already passed the group. “Strangeness is not uncommon in Ionia,” she said, her dimly glowing eyes lifting up to the night sky. “It is not that we are ignorant of danger, but hopeful of new opportunity. Otherwise, we may never find the prosperous paths waiting for us.”

 

“Doesn’t really matter if their kids get killed, does it?”

 

“If such happens, then that is what happened. It does not mean it will, or can, always be so.”

 

Shyvana grunted and scratched her head, which in turn messed up some of her bound hair. “I guess.”

 

 _Even now you are still afraid of that?_ Syndra wondered, a perturbing feeling nagging at her. Time and again, no matter how much she tried, Shyvana only ever saw the worst of what could happen. Would it not ruin the night, the sovereign seriously considered telling the Elders of her. At the least, the riots that would come clamoring for Shyvana’s attention might dispel her disbelief.

 

“… Where are we going, anyway?”

 

“A garden,” Syndra remarked and kept her eyes from Shyvana’s inquisitive stare. “We are nearly there.”

 

The walk carried on in an unpleasant silence.

 

The sovereign took silent relief when they left the busy streets. The gardens themselves had fewer people—monks, couples, and the odd vendor with their little hand-drawn carts. Here, in the long-leafed trees, glowing flowers, and lantern-lit paths, she hoped for a more quiet setting.

 

Though, were she to be honest, the way Shyvana looked around was … something else. Bemused, but intrigued, not unlike cats she had seen once. Syndra, for however much she wanted to explain every little thing the dragon looked at, refrained. They were well on their way down a cobblestone path at a leisurely pace, and the quiet didn’t need her interrupting it.

 

“I’ve visited for over two years now,” Shyvana said, sounding whimsical, “and this land still surprises me.”

 

“How would that be?”

 

The dragon’s face scrunched in a thoughtful way, indecisive. “Demacia is very … rigid. Everything has a place, or is put into a place.” A smile cracked its way across her face, ever at odds with the seriousness in her eyes. “Ionia is, too, but not always. I feel like I’m in the forests, but I’m not alone, either.”

 

“I should hope not when I am beside you,” Syndra noted dryly.

 

“That’s not what I meant!” Shyvana laughed. “Going out in the wild, living there … it …” As quick as her good humor came, it vanished. “You’re always counting on yourself. Ionians don’t live that life.”

 

“Some do, though not for the same reasons.” Syndra glanced up to the starry night sky. “Everything has its place for us, but we do not look to dictate everything to be in a place. I could bore you with the great earth and heaven again, if you wish.”

 

“As tempting as it is to listen to you, I’d skip that one.”

 

 _Wait …_ Syndra’s brow creased. She barely had time to consider if she had been teased before Shyvana took the lead. Cast in the light of stars and lanterns, the dragon twirled her way down the path, arms open, her dress fluttering from the antics. Silly in its own way, but purposeful, and to Syndra’s eye, all too captivating to watch.

 

A bell tolled in the distance.

 

Half way through a spin, Shyvana froze, those golden eyes peering through the darkness at her. Syndra blinked, a tinge of nervousness in her belly at how intense the gaze was.

 

“Come now, surely you’re not here to just walk with me?” the dragon taunted, the slightest shift in posture making her more threatening. “A beast like me needs more entertainment than that!”

 

Syndra’s brow ticked at the less-than-savory naming. “As I would have it, there is something I wanted to show you.”

 

Head tilting to the side, Shyvana squinted with blatant curiosity.

 

“Come, there is a bench over here.” Syndra curled her fingers beckoningly, and Shyvana followed, perked up and alert. The sovereign sat down on the white-wood seating, folding her hands neatly on her lap. Shyvana joined beside her, sitting a little close.

 

“So what is it?” she asked, peering intently at Syndra.

 

“It will be any minute now. I will warn you, it can be quite loud.”

 

Whether from disbelief or interest, Syndra watched her companion look around, peering at the sleepy garden. She found it all too enjoyable how readily Shyvana showed her own interests in things. Ionians, with their many different faces, made it difficult for simple conversation sometimes. Wide eyes, a frown, displeasure, or rapt captivation; she could trust whatever Shyvana showed, for better or worse.

 

Oh, she was watching Shyvana too much again. The sovereign averted her eyes upward when the dragon looked back at her.

“Is it some kind of magic trick?”

 

Syndra smirked. “No. Not usually. I myself was surprised to find that out.”

 

“Then what—“

 

A shrill, metallic squeal pierced the cool night quiet, jolting Shyvana. Her head snapped upward, joining Syndra in watching the sky. The light of something burning rocketed upwards, barely a glint in the sparkling sea. It vanished, but only for a split second, and an explosion of color cast everything in its light. The dragon jumped off the bench, falling over backwards and into the flowers as the firework’s star-like pattern fizzled out.

 

Syndra, try as she might, couldn’t stop laughing into her hand. The other gripped her knee in a poor attempt at keeping composure. “D-do not startle so easy, dragon!”

 

“Why are they shooting cannons?!” Shyvana barked, pointing at where the firework had just been. “We’re being attacked?”

 

“No, no no! That is not it at all!”

 

“What are they doing then?”

 

“If you get up and watch, you might see.” With a widespread grin, Syndra extended her hand out and helped Shyvana get up again. The dragon sat beside her once more, but, in the strangely rough-textured hold of Shyvana’s hand, Syndra forgot to take hers back. “A show like this only comes once a year.”

 

“A show?”

 

“Yes. The Art of Sky Painting.” Deep, resounding thuds followed behind Syndra’s words. “Look, there is more!”

 

She pointed with her free hand, both of their eyes following a sparkling light into the sky. A colorful flash of blue and green filled their eyes, a vague scene of flowing rivers and rolling hills. Shyvana stiffened as soon as she saw it, but it was the half-second later ‘bang’ that made her jump in her skin again.

 

“Why is it so bloody loud?”

 

“Fire is not exactly quiet, as you would know.” Syndra bit the inside of her cheek to stop from smiling at Shyvana’s glare.

 

Another thud, another light in the sky. They turned to watch, and a blooming yellow mountain stretched before them. The angle was slightly off, but Syndra suspected the white lights were for the snowcapped tips. A grin spread across her lips freely now. “Ah, so that is what they are doing.”

 

“Eh?”

 

“You will enjoy this next one if I am right.”

 

They waited in silence while the lights faded and the smoke drifted away. A faint smell of fire powder tickled Syndra’s nose, but that was the norm with these events. In its own way, it actually reminded her of Shyvana. Burnt and crackly, but hers had a hint of smoke that no candle or wood could hope to emulate. A wispy, almost ethereal quality that reminded her more of fire than anything else.

 

The thud of cannons made her, lost in thought, jump this time. With how fixated she remained staring upward, she hardly paid any mind how Shyvana pulled her closer.

 

A great many lights rocketed into the sky with their fantastical trails. They petered out into the murky darkness, and all the town held its breath with theirs. Green and blue blossomed before them, the rivers and lands returned. Mountains erupted forth, jutting out tall and proud. Third explosions filled the void between, giving an impression of a true painting filled to the brim with the great lands Ionia.

 

The flaming sparkles of this sky borne tapestry wobbled, heaving as if the air itself sucked in a breath. In its mighty exhale, a swathe of teal and luminous sparking jade shot out, uncoiling from the abyss. Yet, where the rest lingered, the flames drew themselves forward into a mighty scaled serpent, its thick plates and elongated head power itself.

 

“A dragon?” Shyvana mumbled, somewhere between surprise and disbelief.

 

It swirled over the lands in the sky, its head sweeping as it surveyed all before it. For the briefest moment, Syndra felt it look at the two of them with its gleaming red eyes, but it passed as quickly as it came. Stretching its small arms around the waters and mountains, the dragon curled itself into a ball, huddling all of Ionia in its protective grasp.

 

And so, the image faded, the magic and powder alike extinguished at last.

 

Syndra smiled joyfully at the sight, feeling more herself in the emptiness of the display’s departure. “A good omen.”

 

“Hm? What do you mean?”

 

“It is said the fire workers hear the whispers of the dragons, and through it, they let them speak on these nights. Last year’s display was quite different from this one.”

 

“… They probably do.”

 

Blinking with surprise, Syndra looked over. “What?”

 

“Draconic magic was in that,” Shyvana remarked simply, staring at the sky still. “Not any kind I recognize, but it was a dragon alright.”

 

At a loss for words, Syndra could only look up, wondrous. Nothing felt out of the ordinary to her, no more than any other presence of magic would. Was she blind to it, somehow? Such a dragon would have to be exceedingly skilled. That idea alone made her uneasy as much as curious.

 

“Then,” she added after a minute of silence, “I can only take it for the good omen it is.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

And Shyvana agreed with her as well? Such good fortunes lifted her spirits, and Syndra stood up. “Come, there is something—“ A tug at her hand made her look down, and she realized the two of them were holding each other. Shyvana, too, must’ve realized as well, for their eyes met in a long stare.

 

The dragon pulled herself up, and grinned. “Helping me up? How courteous.”

 

“Yes, of course,” the sovereign responded, more out of habit than thought. She withdrew her hand, folding it with the other at her front. “Follow me.”

 

Without waiting, Syndra turned, drifted a few inches from the ground, and glided forward. Only when her hands were out of Shyvana’s sight did she fidget and rub the one that had held the dragon earlier. A phantom of sensation lingered, that of rough skin, scales, and _heat_ —more than the sort a person might have, a kind of bubbling, liquid warmth.

 

Perhaps she could've dismissed the matter were it not for the fact how very nice it felt holding Shyvana’s hand. It was beyond anything she had imagined before.

 

*~*

 

A short walk later revealed what the sovereign sought. Nestled in a flattened, gravel-stone covered area, sat a merchant and his cart. Small enough to be pushed by one lonesome soul, a garish tapestry of sugary words and bowls of fluffy whiteness covered the sides. The cart worker perked up at their approach, his old eyes widening when he saw them properly.

 

“Welcome, welcome!” he said, jovially slapping a flimsy paper fan on the counter-top of the cart. “For what can I help beautiful young women such as yourselves?”

 

“And what flavors would you have this evening?” Syndra inquired.

 

The man straightened, regarding her with a touch more seriousness. “Why, all of them, my lady.”

 

“Then, I will have your best bowl with a strawberry taste.”

 

“Of course, and for you …?” He looked toward Shyvana.

 

“Uhh, what is it?” the dragon asked, scratching her cheek.

 

“Oho?” The man’s brows climbed up and he smiled widely, some of his teeth missing. “You haven’t had any before? I shall give you one of my greatest bowls as well. Tell me, what flavor is your fancy?”

 

“… Honey?”

 

The cart worked laughed as he turned around. “Honey! Oh, this will be very sweet, then.”

 

Leaning over to Syndra, Shyvana whispered, “What the hells is this?”

 

“Shh,” the sovereign commanded, a finger on her own lips. The two of them watched the eldery man work, his hands plucking out a yellowish-block the size of his palms from inside the cart. He dunked it into a bowl of white flour, coating it thoroughly before gently ramming a hole into the middle of it with a wooden tool.

 

“How have you two found the festival tonight?” he asked, squinting at the holed block in his hands. Twisting and turning it over and over, he worked it into a larger, more rounded loop-like shape.

 

“Splendid,” Syndra answered. “Good food and company, and a good omen as well tonight.”

 

“Ah, you saw old Talgin eh?” He chuckled, but grunted as he stretched the loop out. “I haven’t seen him since my young years … never thought I would again, either.”

 

“Who is Talgin?” Shyvana interjected.

 

“Whaaat? You don’t know about old Talgin? Haha! You’re not from around here, are you?”

 

“We visit from the far western provinces,” Syndra said. “Eastern treats are new for her.”

 

“The west, eh? How are things there?” Loop over loop, the man twisted and turned the sugar rope, slathering it in flour every step of the way. “Them violent curs minding themselves?”

 

“They will be off our lands by the year’s end.”

 

“Waaah?” The man looked up, surprised. “Truly?”

 

Shyvana and Syndra nodded, and he laughed loudly. “Wonderful, wonderful. People like them don’t belong in Ionia.”

 

By now, the honey had been looped so many times, hundreds of thin strands now stretched between the cart worker’s hands. Shyvana leaned a little closer the more he did it, a touch of incredulity to her eyes. “How did you do that?”

 

“Hm? Do what?” The cart worker paused for a moment, giving the nearly thousand strands of sugar rope a playful pluck.

 

“It was a block a minute ago!”

 

Syndra hid her mouth behind her hand, but not her laughter. Shyvana’s incredulous look only made her laugh even harder. The cart worker joined in as well with his jovial chuckling. In quick order, the hair-thin threads were splayed out onto a cutting board, and the cart worker started sectioning them off.

 

“But, anyway,” he said, “old Talgin is the guardian of the Endless Sea. It is he whom we give tribute to for calm winds and bountiful harvest. Or at least, so the saying goes.”

 

He finished up by placing bowlfuls of the stringy sugar into their ceramic dishes. Two small bottles followed, and a light drizzling of honey and strawberry topped the fluffy white treat. “Here you two are!” the cart worker declared, holding out their bowls to them.

 

Syndra fetched her coin purse and paid, making the man bow politely. With a courteous wave, she prompted Shyvana to follow, and they left again to walk into the village’s gardens.

 

“Ish shuu stuicky,” Shyvana slurred, a clump of the treat already in her mouth. “Aht teh fuk?”

 

“Enjoy it slowly!” Syndra chastised before taking a smaller lump for herself. Even her careful, articulated efforts couldn’t spare her fingers from the sticky sweet trap. A sugary sharp pang of deliciousness struck her as she nibbled on the lump. “Mmhm! So good.”

 

The sovereign spied over toward her companion, all but freezing on the spot at what she saw. The stringy treat had found its way onto Shyvana’s fingers and hands, but it was the dragon’s impressively long tongue that caught her attention. Seven, maybe eight inches, and how it _slithered_ over the dragon’s hand simply astonished her.

 

Though this time, she had no excuse when Shyvana’s gaze found her staring again. The dragon paused mid lick, one brow slowly crawling upward. Shyvana’s whole neck flexed as she sucked her tongue back into her mouth, a tiny slurping gulp signaling its disappearance.

 

“See you something you like?” she asked, her lips pursed in a barely restrained smirk.

 

“How does …” Syndra paused, and looked around, if only for her own modesty to see they were utterly alone. She leaned in a little closer, to which Shyvana leaned in more with a wider smile, and whispered, “How does it fit in there?”

 

The dragon blinked owlishly, regarding her with wide, dumbfounded eyes. “Uh … it’s my tongue. Why wouldn’t it go in my mouth?”

 

“But it is so very—“ Syndra emphasized the rest with her hands, awkwardly holding the bowl in one, and drawing a seven-inch space between them.

 

A snorting laugh ripped out of Shyvana, sending the dragon bending backward. “Really? _That_ surprises you?!”

 

Sighing and rubbing the bridge of her nose, Syndra waited for Shyvana’s short bout of laughing to subside. Somewhere between a tinge of her own embarrassment and amusement, she said, “Incredulous, not surprised. It is a very strange thing to see!”

 

“A strange thing,” Shyvana echoed, grinning. “Would that be a good strange, or a bad strange, for an Ionian like you?”

 

She knew a trap when she saw one, and Syndra squinted at the coy-sounding dragon. It was impossible to say ‘bad strange’, even if she had ever wanted to, but the other one paralyzed her with its impropriety. Not one to be outdone, Syndra lifted her nose ever so slightly, and said, “Good strange. There is nothing wrong about it, if that is what you mean.”

 

“Heh, funny. Usually women end up running away as soon as they see it.”

 

“Is that a dragon custom? Showing off your tongue?”

 

“… What?”

 

“It is an honest question.”

 

“I …” Shyvana’s cheeks puffed up. “Yes, it is. We only show it to women we enjoy the company of _a lot_.”

 

Ponderous over this new idea, Syndra plucked a soft lump of treat and chewed on it. She paused mid bite as realization began to creep upon her and hurriedly swallowed. “Ah, I see, then this dragon _does_ enjoy my presence after all.”

 

“Try not to sound too pleased, but I _am_ wearing this dress for you.”

 

“Wait, why?”

 

“’Why’ what?”

 

“You said you are wearing that dress for me. Why is that?” Standing there in the flicking fireworks and moon light, Syndra couldn’t put her finger on Shyvana’s look. The dress was certainly fetching, and it hugged the dragon’s frame lovingly, but she didn’t ask for it. Indeed, she’d enjoy staring at her more if they were at such a point a request like that could be made.

 

“I’ve no idea what’s going on now!” Shyvana grumbled, scratching at her head and ruffling her hair even more. “Are you messing with me?”

 

“No.”

 

“Do you … do you just not like women? Is that it?”

 

A ticklish sense of nervousness shot down Syndra’s back at hearing that. “How do you mean?”

 

“Okay, okay, nevermind. It’s nothing, let’s start walking again, it’s getting cold out here.”

 

The sovereign didn’t have a chance for a word before Shyvana started—quite stiffly—walking forward. An earnest question had left the air flustered and confused, all for reasons she couldn’t tell why. Scowling, an irritable sense gnawed at her gut, and she glided up to beside Shyvana. “You are saying things I do not understand clearly,” she said simply.

 

“Yeah, I’m just making an idiot of myself, ignore it.”

 

“I will not! As your friend, you must tell me what it is you meant.”

 

A frustrated sound escaped Shyvana, the woman holding her hands up. “It’s not something friends say to each other!”

 

“What people are the ones to say it, then?”

 

“The ones way beyond being friends.”

 

“Being obscure is not like you.”

 

Shyvana stopped on the spot at her remark and turned toward her. A frown, somewhere between a scowl and annoyance, twisted her rough-skinned face. One might even call it frightening, were it not for how familiar Syndra was with such a look. “I’m saving us both from doing something very, very stupid. Can I get that much?”

 

Drawing herself upright, Syndra stared down, her eyes narrowed. She waved her bowl holding hand, letting the sweet treat float away into the air before lowering herself. Cool, rocky ground met her naked feet, and she resisted the urge to shudder. Shyvana’s scowl turned to one of confusion as she looked up and down at the imperious mage. “I am the sovereign of all Ionia, and I will not have this any longer. Now, tell me, in no uncertain terms, what it is you are talking about.”

 

Golden eyes fought to find anywhere to look but her. Syndra waited, staring down at Shyvana and her rather strange fidgeting. The dragon picked at her hands with her claws, face twitching between frowns and toothy snarling. A sight like this was one Syndra never imagined to see, much less stand in front of. The whole of Shyvana’s aura anxiously curled with uncertainty, and she couldn’t tell why.

 

“… You can’t blame me when I tell you,” the dragon grumbled out, breaking the strangely tense silence.

 

“I won’t.”

 

“Can you make this bowl go away like that other one?”

 

“Yes? Here.” And off it went, floating into the air.

 

Freed of the treat, Syndra watched Shyvana stand ramrod straight, her shoulders squared. Those golden eyes locked with her own, their vertical slits tightly clenched. In all the years she’d known the dragon, this tightly coiled seriousness somehow overshadowed even her fury in battle. The aimless anxiety that crept up on her worsened, and a deeper concern began to nag at Syndra the longer they stared at each other.

 

Shyvana’s thin lips parted, and she spoke.

 

“I want you.”

 

The sovereign blinked. “In what way—“

 

“Like how a man takes a woman to bed, but a woman taking a woman instead,” Shyvana declared with perfect, unflinching conviction.

 

Syndra, in the face of those eyes, totally blanked. She heard it; understood it quite well, in fact. Yet, being there, having Shyvana of all people she knew, say it to her, it was beyond anything she imagined. The rush of heat into her chest, or the shrill, bone-gripping freeze that grabbed her for just a moment. Her hand absently pat down her dress, if only to give her something to do while she scrambled for an answer.

 

“Oh.”

 

All at once, Shyvana sighed, deflating in defeat. “Yes, I know, and you don’t want it like that. For both our sake’s, just—“

 

“You are incorrect.”

 

Jolting as if she had been struck, Shyvana looked up, her pupils dilating in her eyes by the second. “What?”

 

The heat from her chest shot up to her face, and Syndra averted her eyes to the sky for fear of reddening even more. “It is not men who stir my desires, Shyvana. You and I are very much the same in that regard.”

 

“I—huh?”

 

Syndra knew she had to look this matter in the eye, and she did so by gently taking hold of Shyvana’s hands. But, to her utter surprise, red glowing veins had bloomed up Shyvana’s whole neck and face. They pulsed in her purple skin, vibrantly drawing the indigo-like hues forth in their sun-burning glow. This was a sight of Shyvana ready to spit fire, and yet, not a hint of flame to be seen. _Are … are you blushing?_

 

Could a dragon blush?

 

The mere idea of Shyvana blushing at her, somehow made her own blush worsen. “I have often dreamed of such things,” she said, her own sense of propriety well and truly burning with embarrassment at this point. “But, I have only ever dreamed, and it has remained out of my reach for all my life.”

 

This wasn’t at all how important, life changing moments like this were supposed to go. As far as her stories told her, at least, there was always romantic declarations, and dowries, and impressive feats to win favors. _Does Shyvana’s fighting in the war beside me really count for that?_

 

“You’re … _you_ , are a virgin?”

 

The grass around them flattened to a glassy-smooth surface as the weight of Syndra’s magic flared. “If you want to keep your tongue, do not say that so loudly again!”

 

Shyvana stared at her, well and truly dumbstruck. “But—but you’re so beautiful! You could have anyone!”

 

“It is not a matter of having _any_ one _!_ ” Syndra hissed, drawing a finger up to Shyvana’s nose. “It is only about having the _right_ one!” Syndra’s lips pursed, but she didn’t dare take the words back. Her heart hammered in her chest, and sweat threatened to form on her brow, but she stood in spite of her own anxiety.

 

A small smile spread on Shyvana’s lips, oddly timid for her. Syndra found herself captivated as the dragon clasped her finger-pointing hand in both of those rough ones. “Then, even when I know so much will stop it, may I be that one for you, Syndra?”

 

Why did such a small sentence lift her heart so? A thrilling relief uncoiled the knot in her belly, but that in itself made Syndra more anxious. “What do you think might stop you from being that one, then?”

 

“Because,” Shyvana spoke softly, as much as her growly-low voice could. “I am beholden to Demacia, and all that lets me reach your hand is a thin veil of magic. If that was gone, we would be no more.”

 

“Do you think if such were to happen, I would not come for you?”

 

Shyvana’s eyes widened.

 

“I am the sovereign of all Ionia, as I have just told you.” Syndra smiled. “If you are to be the one, then nothing will stand between us.”

 

“Then, will you?”

 

Would she? Syndra chuckled, if only to cling to the absurdity of the question over her own nervousness. “I cannot speak much for experi—“ A sharp eep shot out of her as Shyvana’s other hand looped around her backside, pulling her closer. Never before had anyone done so, and the suddenness of something so new made her heart race.

 

“I want you more than any dragon could want gold,” Shyvana said, the rumbling of her voice strong enough to shake Syndra. “I don’t have a lot of things to give, and I’m not very good with words, but, I can make you my woman, and I can make you happy.”

 

Syndra jumped her in skin, clenching her teeth as Shyvana’s hand grabbed her butt through her dress. Despite all the layers, it enveloped enough to squeeze her firmly, and the heat of that draconic blood warmed her pleasantly. “Y-your woman, is it?” she asked, winching at her own chirp. “You have yet to prove a dragon worthy of my bed!”

 

Flickers of crimson shot through Shyvana’s eyes and a throaty, growling hum came, the first sort of sound Syndra ever heard from her. Somewhere between human and dragon, pleased but energetic like anger. “Then shall I, _Syndra?_ ”

 

The sovereign shuddered, the sound of her own name and Shyvana’s presence utterly tantalizing. This thrill stood far apart from battle or magic, a realm of something utterly new. Never had she imagined her very first encounter to go like this. No scroll of spoke of someone so bold, or a touch so powerful it made her skin tingle through her dress. If anything, the stories they told seemed utterly pale by comparison.

 

It made her cold toes curl a little the longer she thought on it.

 

“Come, Shyvana,” Syndra commanded, though her imperious tone was soft. “Entertain me with your skill and prove worthy of being _my_ woman.”

 

A snorting flare of her nose came as Shyvana stood straighter, a determined warrior’s gleam to her eyes.

 

They stood there, staring at each other.

 

And stood there …

 

Shyvana’s golden eyes peeked from side to side. “Uhh, how do we get to your bedroom from here?”

 

“Hmm? Oh, yes. One moment.”

 

*~*

 

The ride back to her fortress was perhaps the tensest Syndra ever took. Traveling through the village, sitting upon the carrier, making sure all her attendants were in line, then having Shyvana sitting and _staring at her_ so close by. The heat of the moment had passed, and yet a greater anticipation had filled her, a realization the ‘her’ that morning would’ve laughed as impossible.

 

_I was actually that awkward. Oh, do not think about it._

 

Her head spun at the idea, and she was thankful how it easy it was to be commanding to her servants. A familiar routine, unblemished by her own swimming thoughts. At the least, everything went normal until they were walking through the quiet hall that lead to her private quarters. Alone together.

 

_I am really doing this with Shyvana._

… How was she even going to do it?

 

 _My own body I know well, but another woman?_ _What is there to do? The same technique I already know, or is there something different? Perhaps more because she is a half-dragon?_

 

“Nervous?” Shyvana’s amused voice cut through her idle thoughts.

 

The sovereign looked over, mustering up her stately-empowerment to regard her soon-to-be lover. “Thoughtful, would be the word I use.”

 

Grinning in the lantern light of the hallway, Shyvana said, “Oh? What kind of thoughts?”

 

“Ones I would find improper to say.”

 

“Oh, let me hear them!” Shyvana begged, stepping a little closer. In doing so, she slipped an arm around Syndra’s hip, her grip firm.

 

There she was, being pulled into Shyvana again, that incredibly hardy body squished into hers. It was one matter to know how strong Shyvana was, and quite another to feel how pliable her own body could be against hers. Syndra bit her lip, and without saying anything, slowly slid her own hand onto Shyvana’s rear. Smooth fabric covered the slight bumps she felt, and indeed, she had her first thrilling handful of the dragon’s butt.

 

“You can grab a lot harder than that,” Shyvana whispered, smiling up at a surprised Syndra. “I like a strong touch.”

 

“The clothes make it difficult.”

  
“That’s half the fun.”

 

Syndra’s brow cocked upward.

 

The paper-screen door to her bedroom came up, utterly unremarkable. She stopped suddenly and Shyvana nearly walked past her. “Here.”

 

“Hm? Really?”

 

“Yes, really,” Syndra returned dryly. Sweeping the back of her hand across the shoji, a touch of magic helped slide it open for them. Wiping her feet on the tiny rug at the entrance, she stepped through, a sense of familiarity laced with trepidation on her. She turned back to Shyvana, whom stared at her with a smile, and found herself smiling back.

 

Holding out her hand inviting, the sovereign commanded, “Come inside.”

 

“Aren’t you formal?” Shyvana said, taking Syndra’s hand and stepping in ‘daintily’. A sharp snort of a laugh escaped Syndra at the display, and Shyvana giggled with her.

 

“Is politeness that strange?”

 

“When a woman pulls me into her bedroom? Heheh, it’s a little charming.”

 

A prickling suspicion arose in Syndra, one she wasn’t sure if she wanted to—or should—ask. “They do not treat you so well?”

 

“There’s a lot more pulling at my clothes, maybe a little hair grabbing.”

 

“Oh.” Syndra waved the shoji closed and turned to her large bedroom. Overly spacious by Ionian standards, her floor bedding lay to the right beneath a window, and her private closet to the left. A recessed part of the wall the bedroom door was a part of kept a small, shrine-like enclosure keeping her formal dress and armor. Her aimless eyes fell onto the other shoji at the far side of the room, a door that led to the outside.

 

A touch of sweat threatened to form the longer the few seconds they stood there. She glanced at Shyvana from the corner of her eye, only to find Shyvana’s scaled, warm hand grasping hers firmly. Tentatively stepping forward, she tugged Shyvana to follow her. “Would you care for a drink?”

 

“Sure,” Shyvana said, thin lips peeled into a toothy smile.

 

Crossing the tan tatami floor, Syndra waved open the other shoji, and a draft of cool air blew into them. What lay beyond stood perhaps one of her most carefully cultivated personal projects. A wood porch led down into a small gravel path that led into the garden. Neat rows of flowers, berry bushes, and other shrubbery flanked this path, each section neatly arranged. Billowing trees, uplifted from different parts of Ionia, dotted the expanse, and though they couldn’t see it from where they were, small hovels for sitting were neatly made underneath them.

 

“Your plants are, uh, glowing?”

 

Syndra giggled at the incredulous tone. Even better, she found the small porcelain-jade tray had been laid out on the porch as she ordered to. “Sit with me,” she said, guiding Shyvana out onto the wood deck. They settled down next to the drinks, Syndra neatly on her knees, while Shyvana took to being cross-legged as always. “This is my _personal_ garden,” she remarked, drawing the tray close. “I have handcrafted everything you see here.”

 

An appreciative sounding hum came out of Shyvana. “You Ionians love to garden, don’t you?”

 

“It is good for the soul.” Syndra plucked up the thin wine bottle, mulling over the small label on it. Nodding to herself, she sat back with it, and a small tinge of magic brought both cups floating up with her. “You might like this flavor, though I would not call it _strong_.”

 

Leaning over, Shyvana pressed into Syndra to take a whiff of the drink before it had even been poured. A sharp, throaty cough broke out of her and she covered her mouth with a hand. “What is that?” she squeezed out, patting her chest. “It’s strong as bloody fire!”

 

“Merely the scent of it,” Syndra returned airily. Tipping the bottle, she set to pouring their drinks out, a tiny smile on her face. “You should be honored. I have not poured wine for anyone not in my family before.”

 

A flustered noise came out of Shyvana at that. Syndra looked up with a touch of surprise at the cute sound, only to find the dragon not looking at her at all. Hints of red veins sat in her purple skin, a sight that warmed Syndra’s heart. She set the wine bottle down and took hold of Shyvana’s cup, letting it hover in her palm as she presented it.

 

“Will you not drink it, my _dear_ Shyvana?”

 

To say the words aloud, and to see those golden eye’s turned toward her, sent goosebumps through Syndra. A tinge of excitement rose from her very core, gone as quick as it came, but warming to have. Her cheeks perked up when Shyvana’s rough fingers brushed her palm to take the cup.

 

“Ah, thank you,” the dragon said, quiet. “Did you … want to say anything?”

 

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

“In Demacia, drinks like this can be for, ah, great celebration.”

 

A thought crossed Syndra’s mind. “There is something, as it happens to be.”

 

“O-oh, what is it?”

 

The sovereign scooted over, all but pressing herself into Shyvana’s side as politely as one could. She peered down into those golden eyes, a fluttery nervousness within her. “I will say that,” she spoke with her ‘commanding’ tone, “I am happy beyond many words to have met you.”

 

Those draconic eyes widened, their slitted pupils dilating. For however long she knew Shyvana, Syndra had never seen her as expressive as this very night. Though her hard-set face remained, it softened in such beautiful, feminine ways at her words. “And,” she added, nervously biting her own bottom lip for a moment, “I can think of no one I would rather want.”

 

Her inkling suspicion proved true as the languishing veins in Shyvana’s face all but exploded in magmatic veins. But, the dragon herself put up a cocksure smile in spite of it. “Tell me more.”

 

“Now there is a lofty request,” Syndra said haughtily, turning her nose up. “Perhaps I may …”

 

She sipped at the wine, already anticipating the sharp taste and scent. It rolled through her mouth in a wave, heightening her senses in a face-scrunching rush, but in the wake remained a fruity aftertaste. Shivering, she waved her hand, letting the cup float back to the tray.

 

Shyvana, meanwhile, coughed beside her. “Holy shit.”

 

The sheer surprise in the dragon’s voice made Syndra laugh.

 

“The hell is this stuff?”

 

“A ceremonial drink. It cleanses the body, or so the saying goes.”

 

“People get drunk on it?”

 

“I would be surprised if that happened even after ten bottles.”

 

Shyvana’s eyes squinted confusedly. “Why on earth drink it then?”

 

“For fun.” Syndra winked at the mock offended look shot her way. “Oh, it is very rare, and hard to procure, certainly something not to be shared _casually_.”

 

“Uh huh.” Shyvana set her cup down.

 

“I am serious.”

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

A hand wrapped around her hips, and Syndra suddenly found herself nose-to-nose with Shyvana’s face. She had barely blinked before those captivating eyes filled her vision, accompanied by warmly radiating heat.

 

“Funny,” Shyvana whispered, her hot breath wafting over Syndra’s lips. “I’m serious too.”

 

In one moment, she laughed so freely, and in the next, Syndra’s heart hammered in her chest, the thumping almost audible. Frozen to the very spot, her mind tried to piece together what to do, every idea she came close to vanishing with every inch Shyvana closed in by. Hardy, yet soft, skin pressed into her lips, the very first kiss of another sealing her mouth. Her fingers twitched, and her skin prickled from the pleasurable sensation, a wholesome _goodness_ she’d never expected in her life.

 

Shyvana pulled back just enough their lips parted. The pull, and sheer shock of separation, jolted Syndra, her lips humming with delight. A tiny, airy gasp escaped, and her clenched hands eased from her dress, something she hadn’t known she done at all. The dragon sat close, smiling with crimson flecks in her eyes.

 

“Enjoy that?” she asked with a throaty purr—another new sound to Syndra.

 

“More,” the sovereign whispered, command and desire alike mixing together. “I want _more._ ”

 

Any doubt or trepidation within her fled by each word, and as Syndra grasped hold of a surprised Shyvana’s shoulders. Her boldness pressed the dragon to action, and it became her turn to be surprised when Shyvana lunged forward. She fell back onto the wooden deck, the weight of the fiery dragon woman pinning her.

 

“Gods,” Shyvana all but growled out. “I can’t hold myself back if you speak like that.”

 

“Then do not.”

 

“I don’t know how to be soft,” she mumbled, biting her thin lips. “It’ll be scary if I’m me with you.”

 

“Understand this,” Syndra returned, eyes narrowed pointedly. “I am a woman of great desires, and greater power still.”

 

Shyvana blinked, a little taken aback.

 

“If you wish to learn what softness is, I will teach you with my body.” Syndra smirked, her face beat red and hot. “But you must teach me what you are with yours, woman _and_ dragon.”

 

Sheer excitement raced through her when Shyvana laid on top of her, their chests beating together. Her lips opened in anticipation as the dragon leaned in, but it was not for a kiss. Surprise intermingled with a ticklish pleasure from the hot mouth affixing to her ear.

 

“ _That_ I can do.”

 

Two strong arms laid on either side of her head. In its own way, Syndra found herself boxed in. Shyvana grinned from over her, shifting her weight. What felt like legs came from the sides of her hips, squeezing her tight. The whole of her being was caught in Shyvana’s clutches, and to her surprise, it excited her. Not unlike some martial arts and their close contact—intimate and playful.

 

“You have pretty eyes,” Shyvana mumbled, their noses brushing against each other. A tiny, surprised hum escaped Syndra that made the dragon chuckle. “They’re colorful.”

 

“Truly?” Syndra returned shyly. “Yours are such a soft shade of gold.”

 

“Heh, yeah. I like how yours change, though.”

 

“… Change?”

 

“When you’re angry or happy, they get darker or lighter. They’re almost pink right now—yeah, now they’re pink.”

 

Never in her whole life did she expect her eyes to be so betraying of her as in this moment. Syndra always knew they did change somewhat, but almost entirely to the degree of magic she used. “W-well, is that not interesting?”

 

Shyvana chuckled, her hot breath spilling over Syndra’s lips. “How much lighter can I make them, hm?”

 

Anticipation followed delight at those words. For, while kissing was one thing, Shyvana’s strong words added another, a kind of flavor that made her want to make herself just a little more available. The sovereign stretched underneath Shyvana’s hold, her lips tingly with anticipation as those last few inches were crossed. Their kiss slowed enough she could fully enjoy the firm press of Shyvana’s lips. She loved the friction between them and the more Shyvana’s mouth moved against hers, the more she tried to move back. There was no grand plan, only the desire to feel those scaly thin lips against her soft ones, and the electric tingles that shot down from her mouth.

 

A lull arose within her, one content to the gentle sway, press and pull Shyvana treated her with. It came so close, but suckling to her lips—a new kind of pleasure—rocked her from it. Shyvana pulled away, their mouths fastened together only to pop, and the shock of her mouth snapping back made her eyes open. The dragon purred a laugh in a humming ‘hmph’.

 

“Open wide,” Shyvana whispered and she sank down once more.

 

Syndra, half-way to speaking, found herself cut off by something warm and wet prodding her lips. Her eyes bugged a little at the alien sensation, ticklish, foreign, and strangely inviting. _H-her tongue?_ She wondered, squirming under Shyvana’s weight. The tip of the thing curled along her lips, tracing their plumpness. Confused, but delighted, she sat there, trying to absorb this new feeling.

 

To her disappointment, Shyvana pulled away again.

 

“You need to open your mouth,” the dragon said, almost like an instructor were not for her teasing tone.

 

“That—to put your tongue in my mouth?”

 

Shyvana chuckled, her whole body rocking. “Yes. It feels good, trust me.”

 

Opening her mouth, Syndra made a small ‘ahh’ sound.

 

“N-not like that.” The dragon’s cheeks puffed up, an earnest laughter hiding in her eyes. Syndra withdrew a little, frowning. “Here, you’ll know.”

 

Out of everything she imagined to follow such sweet, friction-filled kissing, wetness wasn’t one of them. Shyvana kissed her lightly, but the long side of her tongue pressed firmly against her lips now, probing with its pointed tip intently. Syndra fought the urge to shut her mouth tightly against it. The wet _slipperiness_ pried and prodded, strangely enticing to feel and she slowly opened up. It slid between her lips, a warm mass whose tasteless texture made her toes curl.

 

Syndra squirmed as conflicting emotions struck one after another. The ticklish licking made her want to giggle; the tasteless spittle, despite its slimy texture, was somehow _delicious_ ; the pressure of Shyvana’s mouth upon hers, the weight pinning her to the floor, and that tongue coiling all over hers. A sound wormed up from her throat, and Syndra dimly recognized her own moaning.

 

The moment Shyvana broke the kiss, Syndra gasped for a breath she didn’t realize she needed. All of her mouth buzzed with prickly pleasure and shutting her lips proved difficult with how sensitively they pressed against each other. “Ah, haha, oh?”

 

The dragon smirked down, her golden eyes curled in a gloating triumph. “You taste good.”

 

Were it not enough she was still putting together what just happened, Syndra’s blush darkened at the sexy purr above her. “N-now I understand …”

 

“Hm? What?”

 

“Why there is so much kissing in the stories.”

 

Shyvana chuckled heartily, a single finger of hers running along the hem of her loose dress top. “There’s a lot more than just that.”

 

“… What could there possibly be?”

 

“Is that an invitation?”

 

Syndra, despite being on the ground, stuck her nose up, giving Shyvana a haughty look. “You may.”

 

“Hah! Smeared lipstick and you’ll still talk? Alright.” Shyvana lifted herself up from Syndra, all but dragging the sovereign up with her. “Let’s go then, unless you find the floor comfortable?”

 

“Show me inside.”

 

In this, Syndra found her hand firmly gripped, and a tug at her arm that beckoned for her to enter her own bedroom. She marveled at the sensation, while utterly simple, was _powerful_. No one dared to touch or move her in such a way, demanding of her and her body and inviting her at the same time. Every action Shyvana took oozed of practice and experience, something she found herself all too intrigued by.

 

The shoji shut behind Syndra, barely a thought to it before Shyvana turned around. Though small lanterns lit the room, shadows still covered much of it, and the dragon’s shining gaze became all the more pronounced. She grinned in that predatory way of hers, the glint in her eyes making Syndra’s knees feel weak. A hand slid up her arm, securing to her shoulder, while the other went to the sash at her hips.

 

“Now, I _could_ tear this off of you, if you want,” Shyvana remarked, smiling with a toothy flash.

 

“It is quite expensive,” Syndra noted, her own hand flying after Shyvana’s. She gripped those rough fingers to stop her on reflex, but a moment’s thought gave her another idea. “But, this night is special, I will allow it.”

 

The dragon paused and looked up at her, disbelieving. As quick as it came, it vanished, and she wrapped her arms around Syndra’s waist.

 

It all happened faster than she realized. The pull of the earth sank in her belly as Shyvana lifted her up _._ Syndra barely had time to blink before finding herself laid on her own bed, the abundant sheets and pillows cushioning her, yet the landing still shocked her. Weight fell upon her quickly, pinning her legs while strong hands groped at her arms and chest.

 

“Gods, you are so fucking beautiful.”

 

The growl rumbled in Syndra’s ear even with Shyvana sitting over her. Hard hands groped at her breasts, squeezing them through her dress. A soft gasp escaped her when they found her nipples, pressure and heat alike stirring her to push further into those powerful fingers.

 

“And strong, too. You know what that does to me? Seeing such a woman _challenge_ me?”

 

Her heart beat excitedly from fingers crawling across her chest. They slipped into the folds of the dress, finding perch to grip, then _pulled_. The loosened sash fell away and Syndra found her whole front side dress opening, a faint snap of threads breaking. Cool air, marred by heat from Shyvana’s flush body, rushed across her naked skin and large, bosomy breasts. Syndra’s face flushed at the abrupt exposure. The urge to cover herself rose up strongly, but she resisted it, stiffly holding herself in place. This was what she was after, and Shyvana’s pleased look made so wondrously _wet_.

 

She could get used having the dragon look at her like that.

 

Hands crawled up her chest when Shyvana leaned in, their faces close together. The whole of those rough, scaly-skinned palms squeezed, strong fingers claiming her soft skin. She jolted, caught off guard by the sensation of being grabbed so pleasurably. “Ah,” the sovereign exhaled, her eyes wide.

 

“Heh, like that?” Shyvana smiled lecherously.

 

“Quite,” Syndra shot back, her smirk unsteady. It disappeared when Shyvana kissed her and squeezed again. She melted just a bit under the rush, blinking her eyes and clenching her knees together.

 

“Oh no,” Shyvana said darkly, hovering inches away from her lips again. “Tell me what you want, or I’ll take what I want.”

 

Nibbling on her lip for a moment, Syndra’s eyes shyly looked away. “Ah, hmph. Well. My breasts.”

 

“Louder.”

 

“Eh?” Syndra stared at Shyvana’s head tilting, her gaze falling to that long tongue stretching out. Its warm wetness firmly planted on her lips and gave her a long, licking taste. Her mouth parted to let it in on reflex, but she remained agape and feeling played.

 

“Say it louder.”

 

“Say what?”

 

“What you want.”

 

The embarrassment might’ve killed her if she did. Still, that demanding look rankled her nerves, and Syndra wouldn’t abide that. Shifting upon her bedding, she made herself more available, squeezing her shoulders to prop up her chest. “Touch my breasts, dragon.”

 

“Close enough.”

 

Shyvana kissed her again, their lips hard pressed together for a second. Every time she did that, the rush left Syndra a little dizzy, her mouth buzzing for more. The hands upon her chest jolted her from that haze, and all too acutely she felt them flex and position. From the very underside to dangerously close to her nipples, Shyvana took great handfuls of her. She squeezed in a curious rhythm, almost massaging her with those strong hands. Syndra sucked in a breath, finding feeling oddly trapped, but not. Another inviting their self to her was so _queer_ , but she liked how Shyvana did it.

 

“Hnn, yes,” Syndra squeaked out, curling and uncurling her fingers.

 

“They’re so big,” Shyvana marveled aloud, an appreciation in her eyes that made Syndra’s belly flutter.

 

“You like them, then?”

 

“Like you wouldn’t believe!”

 

Syndra jumped when Shyvana’s face fell into her chest, a sudden, very new scaly-skin sensation coming. The dragon squeezed her closer, her breasts firm against Shyvana’s face as she rubbed up and down. “Ah, wh-what are you doing?”

 

“They’re so fucking good,” Shyvana growled into her.

 

Hot, slippery warmth slid over her chest, and in an instant Syndra knew what was happening. Her eyes bugged a little as Shyvana’s open mouthed, sucking kiss pulled at her. A hint of teeth followed, gently scraping after those thin lips. Syndra grabbed at the dragon’s clothed shoulders, drawing a curious gold eye. “W-why are you kissing them?”

 

Shyvana grinned openly, the tip of her tongue sliding across her lips.

 

Syndra’s skin prickled when the dragon’s head slid over to the top of her breast, that warm breath billowing over her, and Shyvana’s thin lips descending. They wrapped around her puffy nipple, squeezing with that soft-but-firm pleasure only lips could bring. A pure, electric jolt shot through her, and Syndra’s tiny moan escaped on its own, the sovereign pushing herself into Shyvana’s mouth.

 

“Do it more,” she demanded, grabbing Shyvana’s head. A chuckle answered in kind, and those lips _moved,_ suckling and massaging all in one spine-tingly motion. The hand upon her other breast started again, massaging in tune with that devious mouth. Syndra bit at her lip, breathing heavier by the minute. It was all so close to what she did herself, yet Shyvana doing it somehow changed everything.

 

Laying so contentedly beneath the dragon, Syndra’s soft moans came in earnest. Huffing with every breath, she squirmed and gripped at Shyvana, uncertain on what to do, yet so delighted in doing nothing. The dragon switched from one breast to the other, and the suddenness of starting again drew a surprised cry from her. A finger and a thumb wrapped around her wet nipple, their hardiness sharp to the warmly wet lips from before. Syndra’s thighs rubbed together, barely any relief to the heated desire in her loins.

 

Shyvana’s hands ceased their massage, holding her firm, and the dragon’s lips popped free. A shuddering breath escaped, a look of satisfaction from a fine meal to her. “Your tits are the best.”

 

“T-thank you?” Syndra returned uncertainly, earning a hearty chuckle.

 

“Sure, let’s go with that.”

 

“What else am I supposed to say?”

 

“Couple things,” Shyvana said, sitting upright. Her hands loosened on Syndra, letting her overly sensitive breasts have a break. “How much you like it, what you’d want next, how you’re feeling …”

 

“Fine. I want to touch you.”

 

The dragon blinked owlishly, her head tilting to the side. A smirk soon overcame her. “So, touch me.”

 

Syndra’s hands hung in the air, her gaze drinking in Shyvana’s still dressed self. The pants would be simple to remove, but the dress would have to go first. This she knew, but doing it seemed a bizarre thought, but she wanted to see—more than anything else right then, she wanted to see Shyvana. The sovereign’s fingers flew along the sash, unwinding it. “Closer,” she demanded, tugging at the edge of Shyvana’s dress. When the dragon scooted up on her more, she wound her hands through the fabric’s folds, spreading it open with a far more delicate touch. Just to what could be expected, there weren’t any knots or secondary ties, and the whole thing fell open in a gentle wave.

 

Purple glowing eyes stared, widening the more the dress fell away. Syndra froze on the spot, drinking in the purple-skinned nakedness and the tiny slivers of magma running through it. Shyvana shrugged her shoulders, casting all of the dress to the bed, leaving her intensely toned, yet feminine self on display. Bold, scarred in some places with faint cuts or chipped scales. Every inch thrummed with power, the woven tapestry of a woman and a dragon in this half-blooded Shyvana.

 

“Well?” Shyvana said, the magma in her body flaring a tiny bit. “Say something.”

 

Syndra looked up to her lover’s eyes and smiled. _She’s nervous too?_

 

It helped knowing that. She set a hand to Shyvana’s demure chest. Unlike her, the dragon comfortably fit inside her hand, but those dark nipples stood out at their crowns. They almost seemed onyx to her, for what she remembered of that glimmering gem and its black-purple sheen.

 

“In Ionia,” she started, slowly gliding her finger tips across Shyvana’s hard, rough-skinned chest. “It is believed an artist can only imitate, never surpass, the most beautiful things.”

 

There was, and wasn’t, a rhyme and reason to Shyvana’s scales. They followed her muscles, conforming to fit, but in some places turned against that, twisting into a different shape, or hardening where it had to be inconvenient. It delighted her to exploring every little inch she could.

 

“In seeing this, I do not need words. There is no story or painting that would come close to imitating such beauty.”

 

Was it a trick of the light, or did Shyvana become truly flustered at her words? Syndra rose up, testing, and finding a lax dragon sitting atop her, staring wide-eyed. She smiled and twisted, turning them over such Shyvana now lay on the bed beneath her. Brushing her own white hair out of the way, Syndra leaned down until the tips of their noses touched. “I am truly blessed by the heavens to have seen you,” she whispered, closing the gap.

 

A kiss that was hers to give, and hers to taste. Syndra indulged in it slowly, massaging Shyvana in suckling and soft motions. A tinge of delight inched through her at how Shyvana responded, dancing with at her pace. A rough-skinned hand snaked onto her naked back, lighting her nerves with its possessive touch. With a pull, it brought the two of them together chest-to-chest, and an earnest gasp from her parted their lips.

 

Shyvana’s hardy chest met hers, their breasts pressing together. Her overly sensitive skin prickled against that rough, scaly texture, and Syndra moved a tiny bit, not even fully aware of the motion. Not a caress, nor a grope or handful, something different in its intimacy. She couldn’t put a word to it, but she wanted it fiercely, and clung closer to Shyvana. The beat of her draconic heart pounded faintly near hers.

 

“It’s not fair when you say things like that,” the dragon said lowly, her hand inching lower. “It makes me sound dirty when I talk.”

 

“You are not.”

 

“And why’s that?”

 

“Because I said so.”

 

Shyvana laughed, her head falling back into the pillows. “Really? Because I ain’t got a fancy way of saying I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk.”

 

Syndra’s face flushed, not only from the words, but the fingers slipping through what was left of her dress. They crawled past her lower back, and with no clothing in the way, firmly planted themselves onto her bubbly butt. The sovereign jolted when they squeezed her, every inch of each finger far clearer than before. Tight, deep, and so good to feel grabbing her.

 

“T-that is fine,” she squeaked out, giving in to the urge to press back. The more she did so, the harder Shyvana massaged her, and the more her loins quivered with such pleasurable promise. “I want you to.”

 

“Mm, yeah, say that again.”

 

Her brow tweaking, the sovereign smirked and leaned into Shyvana’s ear. “I want you,” she whispered, punctuating each word. “Shyvana.”

 

A great inhale followed, and the dragon rumbled. “That dress needs to go.”

 

Syndra barely had time to hear it before Shyvana started shimming her out of her dress. Through their awkward tangle of limbs, she managed to slip the arms off, and Shyvana all but ripped the rest away. Outer layers, inner, under; it didn’t matter, the dragon stripped her naked in record time. Scaly strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her hard into Shyvana’s hold. Airy, draconic giggling filled the bedoom with its slight hiss, Shyvana’s shaking chest vibrating right into hers.

 

“Your skin is so nice,” Shyvana said, her rough fingers probing along Syndra’s backside, groping and grabbing with lavish freedom. “Fuck, how do you even do it?”

 

It felt utterly silly to her how she tried meeting those hands, but Syndra tried all the same. In some places they grabbed possessively, holding her with a sweet, almost achy tightness. In others they stroked by, fingertips and thick nails leaving an electric trail on her skin. “Mmph, exercise, bathing …” Syndra mumbled, pressing her face into Shyvana’s neck and raising her butt as those fingers squeezed her. “Ah, oh! And a very skilled dragon.”

 

“’Very skilled’ hm? Lift up some more.” Though, for being told to ‘lift’, Shyvana’s hands pulled Syndra up by her butt just as much. The sovereign found herself in an awkward kneel, her face down in Shyvana’s neck, bottom up.

 

“It is rather hard doing this.”

 

“Yeaaah, I noticed. Sit up and lean over me.”

 

With a bit of shuffling, Syndra straddled Shyvana’s belly and rest her arms on top of the dragon’s head. Her bosomy chest settled on Shyvana’s face, much to her audible satisfaction. “Like this?”

 

“Perfect,” Shyvana mumbled, rubbing her face in between Syndra’s breasts. She took a moment to grasp and squeeze them against her, licking up the sheen of sweat off of them. Her tongue swept over, under, and around, coiling each one once, drawing a moaning shudder from the excited sovereign.

 

“Your tongue is quite w-WARM!” Syndra squeaked out, nearly jumping from the hand passing down her belly. Shyvana’s fingers crawled along, combing through the tiny tuft of white hair crowning her mound. She stopped, almost to appreciate it, raking those fingers back and forth through the neatly trimmed hair. Her legs tried closing of their own accord, only to squeeze tightly against Shyvana’s hips.

 

 _Oh. Oh my._ The touching, the kissing, and the groping … it all felt delightfully sensual with Shyvana’s boldness. But, those fingers so close to her womanhood brought everything _keenly_ into focus. The sensitivity of her own skin, the pulsing heat between her nether lips, and how very, very wet she was. Syndra squirmed and clung harder to Shyvana the lower those fingers dared to go. The tenseness stirred tiny trembles, the anticipation gripping her.

 

“Oh Heavens,” she muttered. “Shyvana—“ A yelp escaped at the sudden swat to her bottom: light, sharp, and a little stinging. She jolted on the spot, her head shooting straight up. “W-what was that for?!”

 

Shyvana chuckled. “Relax. You’re too tense.”

 

“You hit my butt!”

 

“Got your attention, didn’t it?”

 

Syndra jolted, another smack to her other, previously un-smacked butt cheek. It was so sharp across her nerves, but she couldn’t tell if she hated it or not. Did she like it for Shyvana’s hand, or that pleasurable buzz it left behind? On the other matter, the slight pain wasn’t at all to her taste … but then it became good? She frowned.

 

“Relax!” Shyvana said, rubbing Syndra’s butt. “You won’t enjoy it if you’re so tense!”

 

The sovereign grumbled in her throat. “Easy to say.”

 

It did help talking, though. She shivered and squirmed when Shyvana’s hand started moving again, all but shoving her face into the dragon’s crimson mane. Despite the sweat and smoky scent, the only thing on her mind was those fingers sliding over her mound. Stiff, rough, and not her own. Familiar, but they moved in ‘different’, unexpected ways.

 

She shuddered with pleasure, her knees and thighs tightening. Shyvana cupped her whole mound with a firm snugness.

 

“Fuck me, you’re so wet,” Shyvana muttered appreciatively.

 

Her face burning with a scarlet blush, Syndra sucked on her lip. She wanted to tell her off as much as moan and it all felt so embarrassing. A stroke of that hand, deeper between her legs, pulled a throaty, half-formed moan out of her. Sucking in breath after breath, she couldn’t stop if she wanted to. Her hips followed that hand in tiny, eager little humps. Shyvana chuckled at her again, but she didn’t care. Those rough fingers were the very heavens she sought to climb to all her life.

 

As her hips pumped back and forth, Shyvana kept stroking. She’d reach firm into her, not enough to truly sink between her pussy lips, but press with wonderful firmness. It’d always start at the bottom, then slid up slowly along her inner folds, right until she was about to reach her crown. Her hooded clitoris throbbed in anticipation, but the touch never quite came. Shyvana’s fingers split apart, going around and just _pressing_ teasingly.

 

“Touch me,” Syndra breathed out, absentmindedly rubbing her face against Shyvana’s head. “Touch me higher.”

 

Those fingers closed in now, cupped together, and they slid over her clitoris. She loved touching it herself, and Shyvana’s unique hands thundered through her nerves with their own way of doing it. Syndra seized for the singular second they slid past, her mouth agape as tremulous sparks shot through her.

 

It ended as fast as it came, and she breathed again, her hips shaking. “I-incredible.”

 

“Yeah, you are.”

 

Syndra barely had a moment to think on it before the world went sideways. With Shyvana’s help, she ended up rolling onto her back near the edge of the floor bedding. She blinked, a void between her legs where that hand needed to be this instant. The sovereign’s accusing glare fell short when Shyvana laid upon her side, wrapping their bodies snug together.

 

“Spread your legs,” Shyvana breathed, a need in her tone. Her slitted eyes were almost thin cuts, keenly focused on Syndra.

 

A part of her prickled at the order, but another wanted to. The sovereign nibbled upon her lower lip and slowly pulled her knees open. That wonderful hand slid between her thighs, its palm almost ticklish as it passed along her folds. She shuddered when it cupped her firmly in that new, but so desirable way. Shyvana’s fingers pressed in a little firmer, threatening to part her delicate folds, and her knees went weak at the teasing.

 

Her eyes shot over to Shyvana’s, watching when the dragon pressed even closer. Molded to her side, Shyvana smiled—though were it a grin or a show of teeth, she couldn’t tell. Their faces came close together and warm, breath spilled over her lips just before the kiss landed. Firm, yet pliant lips sealed hers, but different; a claim laid with leisure certainty. Her toes curled at the half-formed idea, pleasure deeper within stirring.

 

The fingers between her legs stirred, and for a moment, their lips broke as she gasped. Shyvana’s hands rotated upon her pussy in slow, deliberate massaging. Her hips rotated to match, for however little she needed to move, seeking more of that wonderfully rough skin and those fingers. Outside, inside, deeper within, they worked every inch of her, pointed and powerful in each motion.

 

“Keep—mphff—doing that,” Syndra eeked out between kisses, clutching to Shyvana. In the course of moving, she found an angle with her hips, a perfect spot for Shyvana’s stroking hand. How or why disappeared beneath every swipe, her hips shaking in tune with it. She broke their kiss, stuffing her face into the dragon’s shoulder, sucking in air between her fervent humping.  “Oh He-eavens, oh!”

 

“You’re so beautiful,” Shyvana purred into her ear. “ _My_ beautiful woman.”

 

Syndra’s hips sped up on their own, the roiling bliss within her womanhood erupting forth. All the heat of their intimacy, the pleasure seeping through her, her sensitive skin throbbing from every place Shyvana had touched; it all came crashing through in a catalyzing, orgasmic clarity. Womanly cries escaped from Syndra, her hips bucking hard, her grasp on Shyvana as hard as it could be. For a few, mind-blanking moments, every thrust of her hips got those fingers rubbing on her pulsing folds and needy clitoris.

 

A warm, rough, strong body next to hers. That hand between her legs, cupping her with animated fingers. Sweat, so much sweat, her own body achy, her hips wanting rest, nipples rubbing against scaly skin, yet still, Syndra swam on her release, clinging to every long second for much as she could.

 

The world returned more by virtue of discomfort than anything. She couldn’t ignore her awkwardly clingy posture anymore. Syndra rolled off the strange half-angle she had on Shyvana, her back fully on the bed once more, her hips suddenly and quite pleased. Breathing in long, lungful breaths, she trembled, wet between her legs, and keenly aware of the fingers still there, stroking up and down, albeit softly.

 

She mewled a moan of sorts between delight and exasperation, too tired to move anymore. Three of those fingers ceased, only to turn inward, dipping into her slick pussy folds with ease. Syndra gasped, her half-closed eyes popping open to find Shyvana’s lecherous leer staring down at her.

 

The fingers stroked up to the roof of her pussy, flush to her engorged clitoris. An earnest cry escaped Syndra, the sheer jolt of hypersensitive pleasure jostling her whole body. Tinges of muscular pain laced through it, droplets that wanted rest, but she wanted more.

 

“Spill yourself, woman,” Shyvana breathed out with a growl. “Spill all over my fingers.”

 

Did she want to refuse? Syndra couldn’t decide, nor did she truly care. She lifted, even just a little, for an inviting angle to Shyvana’s hand. The strokes came faster, pointed to her clitoris, and her body trembled under the dragon’s domineering dexterity. Syndra’s legs peeled open on their own accord, seeking a better angle, giving more of herself to Shyvana.

 

Her eyes squeezed shut, she never saw those hot lips approach. They sealed to her neck, clamping down with a determined suckle, Shyvana’s long tongue licking her throat with gleeful abandon. The strokes in her pussy intensified, and that sudden eruption returned with its ecstatic pleasure. Her cry came in a short, almost timid way, the purity of the electric sensation making it all but impossible for her to even twitch.

 

A droopy, easy smile overcame Syndra, her pussy throbbing and squirting with its wet release. Her leg twitched at an odd tempo, not that she cared. Those wonderful fingers swept across her as an inkbrush did parchment, every stroke bliss on her soul.

 

Minutes later, she opened her eyes, dazed for a moment. _I … fell asleep?_ she wondered, her body singing with its own joy, however diluted. Shyvana was sitting up next to her, staring with sparkling golden eyes punctuated by shards of crimson. Tousled red hair, a magma-veined blush to her face, the halo of candlelight in her bedroom about her.

 

Syndra’s heart throbbed in tune with her pussy for a very different reason.

 

“W-what?” she said, her voice quiet, the words difficult to make. A scaled hand—dry, unlike the other—came to her face, brushing the hair out of the way. Syndra blinked, her face tingly as those fingertips grazed it.

 

“Can I not look?” Shyvana asked, teasing, but with an edge to her tone.

 

All sorts of answers came to mind for her, but Syndra merely stuck her nose up in whatever messy haired, dignified pose she had. “I shall allow it.”

 

“How gracious.”

 

They laughed, but the very motion made Syndra gasp from the fresh, post-orgasm ache her hips protested with. She reached down, gently cupping herself and wincing at the piercingly delightful, yet sore, pleasure she found. “Oh, oh.”

 

“You want more so soon?” Shyvana brow raised with her skeptical tone.

 

“No, I … it is silly.”

 

Shyvana smirked. “Try me.”

 

She’d barely thought of why herself and already Syndra knew she’d never stop blushing if she said it. Those sparkling gold eyes were impossible to deny. She turned her head, but she kept Shyvana’s face in view all the same. “I wish to savor it … my first,” she said, then added amusedly, “ _and_ second.”

 

Shyvana stared at her, a little taken aback. Yet, she also saw a look, one that made her skin excited and her achy nipples threaten to engorge with arousal. The dragon looked from her to her womanhood, and with a timidness she hadn’t expected, reached between her legs. The hand that so vigorously claimed her laid on top of her own, slick with juices still. She might’ve thought it gross, but it felt nice to her oddly enough.

 

“May I?” Shyvana asked.

 

It wasn’t like the dragon to speak so nervously. Syndra’s brow tweaked, but she smiled. Reaching up with her free hand, she pulled Shyvana down on top of her slowly. “I am your woman now, am I not?” she said with a musing tone. “A woman should please her … woman. I think that is how the saying goes. Dragon-woman?”

 

Shyvana snorted a laugh under her breath, nuzzling into Syndra’s shoulder. “I didn’t think you so eager to please someone else.”

 

The sovereign, after a moment’s thought, turned her head and stared pointedly at Shyvana. The dragon froze at the look, her eyes widening with alarm.

 

“No, wait—“

 

“I am whatever I want to be,” Syndra remarked coolly.

 

“I didn’t mean—“

 

“And,” Syndra interjected, her lipstick smeared lips peeling into a smirk. “Tonight is a woman with a rather amorous dragon. Perhaps I might also be the woman who wants to please said dragon?”

 

Shyvana stared at her, the faint panic in her eyes frozen with incredulity. Conflicted emotions passed through, some sort of troubled thoughts Syndra couldn’t discern. Extending a single finger, the sovereign laid it on Shyvana’s nose, making her go cross-eyed. “What is it you said? ‘Say what you want loudly’?” Shyvana’s snort blew her finger away.

 

“Think you can do it then, hm?” The dragon smirked. “Care to try that tongue between the legs of the beast?”

 

Before she even fully understood the proposition, an eagerness to prove herself overcame Syndra. Yet, the more she thought on it, the further her brow creased. Her eyes flicked down toward Shyvana’s loins, shut as they were. “… Down _there?_ ”

 

Sliding off of Syndra and onto her back, Shyvana sputtered out, “Y-yes, down there.”

 

“But … why?”

 

A strangled snort choked out of Shyvana just before her uproarious cackle broke free. “N-no, wait, I sh-shouldn’t laugh!” she spit out, smacking herself at the same time.

 

Syndra, laid upon her back, felt a smile coming at the ludicrous display. Pushing herself up, the sudden change starkly reminded her what happened between her legs with a strong, skin-crawling shudder. She cast one eye on Shyvana’s poor efforts to collect herself. “What _is_ so funny about that?” she asked, finger combing her messy white hair back into something tamer.

 

“It’s just the way you said it,” Shyvana gasped out, pulling herself upright.

 

While the dragon rubbed her own face, Syndra paused her finger combing. Sat in her bed with such disheveled hair, glowing with her blush, and the candlelight upon that purple skin, Shyvana left her staring. The word ‘beautiful’ passed through her mind, but it didn’t suit. Small, almost, to this captivating pull that gripped her. She stared as long as she could between blinks, soaking every little detail, especially when those gold eyes turned toward her.

 

Yet, they were downcast.

 

“I, ah, wasn’t laughing at you.”

 

“Shush,” Syndra commanded, reaching out and picking Shyvana up by the chin. “I enjoy your laughter.”

 

The confusion that followed somehow made the dragon a touch _cute_. Sexy and cute, if Syndra dared to put the two together. That loose crimson hair and its messiness gave a disarming quality to Shyvana’s fierce face. She brought her hand up and cupped her soft yet rough cheek, the whole of it filling her palm and earning her a look. _This is … nice._

 

“Well?” she said lowly, staring into Shyvana’s wide, dilated eyes. “Will you not tell me why?”

 

A teasing look overcame Shyvana and her smile. “It’s a secret between women that does require _practice._ ”

 

Shyvana squeezed her arm and pulled away. She fell over onto the bed, taking up a comfortable seating on her back, her arms and legs splayed open with an inviting air. Syndra’s eyes roamed across her freely, lingering on those firm, shapely abs. Her fingers twitched and she reached out to lay them upon Shyvana. She probed gingerly, feeling out each little solid dip in that scale-hewn skin. It twitched underneath her, moving with every breath Shyvana took.

 

“Hm? Did you want to practice or touch my belly?”

 

Syndra paused and she tilted her head. “Can it not be both?”

 

“It can, but, I want you a bit lower than that.”

 

Tiny little goosebumps flitted over Syndra’s skin at the wanton tone. Her eyes crawled lower, to the dip between Shyvana’s shut thighs. With those pants she wore all night, she hadn’t a glimpse until now. So much she wanted to see, yet so little she could. A frown crossed her face, and Syndra shuffled across the bedding. Shyvana pulled her knees in, shut tight, just as she sat in front of her.

 

“… What do I …?” Syndra waved her hand to complete her words.

 

“Heh. Give me your hands.”

 

She did so, those wondrously scaled hands clasping hers. Syndra barely had time to enjoy it before she found herself packed in between Shyvana’s knees.

 

"Now,” Shyvana purred, her tongue swiping across her lips. “Open them.”

 

Syndra’s eyes shot up and down, a formless thrill making her throat tight. She shuffled a little closer, and with a touch of trepidation, started prying her hands apart. There was a slight resistance—the tightness of Shyvana’s muscular thighs—but a quick look at the dragon’s playful smirk told her all she needed. Squinting, she pried a little harder, parting those purplish legs with a touch of determination.

 

The victorious feeling when Shyvana yielded flew from her mind completely when she really took in what lay in front of her. Splayed across _her_ bed, Shyvana stared up, legs open, her own glistening womanhood bared at last. The whole of her muscular body seemed to gravitate around that darker, flushed skin, and the hint of a shimmer in its wetness.

 

She swallowed her dry mouth. Such a precious place was open to her and Syndra couldn’t find a word to describe it—this sudden smallness of her person, and how much Shyvana enticed her. “Amazing,” she muttered, the closest thought she managed.

 

“Heheh, now there’s a first,” Shyvana said, amusement in her throaty words. She reached between her legs with a hand, planting one finger either of her dark folds, and spread herself open. “Come closer.”

 

It took her a minute to figure out a good position. Bending over didn’t work, nor did leaning forward from her knees. Syndra ultimately laid on her front, propping herself up on her elbows, Shyvana’s heavenly legs towering around her head. Her eyes fixated on those wet netherlips, clearer to see now. They were the softest part of Shyvana she’d ever seen, even more than those cute breasts. Tiny, pebble-like skin formed the outer lips, leaving the darker-violet inner ones hidden were it not for Shyvana’s fingers.

 

Syndra breathed in, the musky thick scent of something _Shyvana_ filling her nose. A shiver slithered down her back at the freshness, her mouth tingly with the desire to taste. She hadn’t the faintest clue why, but it felt right somehow.

 

“Now,” Shyvana said from over her, “it’s … kind of like kissing, but it’s only your tongue. See my lips?”

 

“Yes,” Syndra breathed back, watching those two purple fingers stroke up and down. Shyvana’s folds molded around them, moving with a lewd grace that almost looked out of place on a woman with such a hardy body.

 

“It’s all you kissing them. Love them with your mouth, mmm, everywhere you see.” Shyvana’s hips trembled with a tiny motion, her wetness becoming damper. Her fingers trailed upward, to the crown of her womanhood, where a bumpy nub jutted out. “Especially here,” she stuttered out the last word, her legs clenching as a finger rubbed a circle around her clitoris.

 

Syndra stared, wide eyed, her thighs squeezed shut together. Fingers, pillows, even some of her own magic she knew well herself. But, a mouth? Soft lips and a firm tongue?

 

She wanted to feel that. She wanted Shyvana to do it to her, too.

 

“An-and, don’t forget to go, mmm, inside.” Shyvana’s heavy breathing was almost as loud as Syndra’s heart in her ears. That slickened hand of hers sank inward, three whole fingers disappearing between her folds. They pumped once, twice, three times—deepest to the knuckle, then they withdrew, leaving her open folds and slippery strands to Syndra’s eyes. “Got it?”

 

“I do,” Syndra returned, only half her listening. _That is a woman’s honey?_ she thought, staring at the seemingly clear, wet stickiness. Shyvana laid back properly upon the bedding, her face disappearing from sight. A confident, sexual aura permeated the air, and simply being near her excited Syndra.

 

“Hm? Well? Start.”

 

“Oh!”

 

She had to get _closer_ , didn’t she? Put her face right onto that … that. Syndra leaned forward on her elbows, edging closer. The scent in the air thickened the closer she came, yet not unpleasantly. Filling, almost; this precious place Shyvana opened to her. She couldn’t see and use her mouth at once, and so, Syndra crossed the gap. Of everything she might’ve imagined, the straight forwardness of it wasn’t one. Shyvana’s skin felt much hotter to her lips, and a slick wetness very different from spittle greeted her. It was, and was not, like a mouth, but quite differently shaped.

 

_This … does not taste like honey at all._

 

She extended her tongue a little more, pressing into the strange, pebbly-like smoothness of Shyvana’s labia. With the flat-side of her tongue, she licked along the outside, tasting of the heat, skin, and feminine wetness. The thighs around her head shuddered, and a pleased hum came from above.

 

“Yes, like that,” Shyvana said approvingly.

 

Syndra, tilting her head, licked the other side, taking another long, slow taste. Everything about it wasn’t terribly off-putting, she felt. Different. Intriguing. A few more licks was needed to really get an idea. She licked again, pressing her mouth a little more firmly in while she did so. Shyvana’s womanhood molded to her mouth, quivering in tiny spasms to her curious probing. The outer folds, with their draconic texture, gave way to unbelievably soft and malleable skins. Syndra couldn’t help starting from there and following all the way inside as far as she could go. She had to bob her head up and down with Shyvana’s hips, rolling back and forth as they were.

 

“F-fuck,” the dragon’s airy growl choked out, loud in the quiet bedroom.

 

Pulling away, Syndra asked, “What is wrong?”

 

“What? Nothing! Just, keep going! You’re a natural!”

 

Flurried words and followed by a hand setting on her head. She barely understood half of it, but the flagrant pleading was certainly pleasing to hear. Syndra, taking a second to size up the task at hand, set to work again. _Outside, then in, then … down, and up?_

 

Would her own personal way work so well? Fingers she knew, tongue not so much. Pressing the flat of her tongue along the outside, Syndra swiped up from the very bottom of Shyvana’s slick wetness. The more she did, the more she couldn’t help noticing just how soft the dragon really was. Nowhere she’d explored was as soft as here, and some part of her had wondered if it would be hardy instead. A tiny thrill rose her in heart with every suckling lick.

 

With every squirm Shyvana made, seemingly trying to escape just as much as offer herself more, Syndra ventured deeper. Her lips sealed against Shyvana’s labia, her mouth comfortably open, the hot inner wetness wrapped around her tongue. It tried to squeeze around her, pulling inward with a familiar, enticing rhythm. Shyvana all but stilled save her thighs slowly pressing in on her head. The dragon’s legs jumped in small, excitable jolts with every deep reaching delve of her tongue.

 

“Oh fuck, yesss,” Shyvana’s growly voice slurred with a hiss. “Jussst a little more, higher.”

 

The wildness she heard sent a shiver down Syndra’s back. Shifting herself, she spread her own legs open and snuck a hand between them. With one elbow for balance, she wasted no time in running her fingers across her wet netherlips. A pleasurable sting gave her pause for a second, the wonderful ache of Shyvana’s work still fresh. Just as her tongue went to the roof of Shyvana’s vagina, so too did her fingers find her own clitoris.

 

A sharp ‘ah!’ escaped Shyvana the moment Syndra’s tongue gently slid over her exposed clit. Those scaled thighs tightened around her head hard, holding with an almost ridiculous determination. Yet, she could hardly move her head, let alone angle her mouth anymore. Syndra’s brow creased irritably.

 

The will to power—a single thought, an impulse of emotion and instinct together, and her magic spurred to answer. Wisps of magic emerged from nowhere, wrapping around Shyvana’s knees with the speed of furious vipers. They pulled gently, prying open the dragon’s legs slow but certainly.

 

“What’re you doing?” Shyvana asked, a mixture of a whine, concern, and desire to her voice.

 

Syndra, who sat up and quickly finger-brushed her hair back into place, squinted her eyes. “Sit there,” she commanded and lowered herself once more. A glimpse of Shyvana’s incredulous face and, perhaps even arousal, passed by. The thought made her smirk while she got comfortable again. “I will say this is not like honey at all.”

 

“Well, yeah—but it tastes good, right?”

 

The tone gave Syndra pause. It still sounded as Shyvana as ever, yet a feeling nagged at her. “Mmm, I certainly _do_ desire more of you …”

 

She hovered before Shyvana’s glistening womanhood, ready, but her eyes found something new. Criss-crossing veins, pumping with that draconic fire and glowing beneath Shyvana’s skin, stood plainly visible in the dragon’s loins. They seemed in tune with the very beat of her heart, pulsing at an erratically steady rate under every breath Shyvana took. _What a beautiful light._

 

Could she make it brighter?

 

The sovereign set her lips upon Shyvana’s vagina, kissing firmly. An airy gasp followed, those scaled hands finding her head once again. They ruffled her hair enough it fell around her face, blocking everything but Shyvana’s intimate, glowing loins. That mysterious taste flooded into her mouth with a freshness that made her mouth ache for more. Extending her tongue as far as she could, Syndra greedily licked, lapping for more. Her magic strained under the sudden clench Shyvana tried, but the dragon stayed splayed open, her legs pinned to the spot.

 

“Just, do it like that!” Shyvana begged. “Fast!”

 

Spurred by such cries, Syndra obliged, running her tongue in long, simple swipes up and down. Soft, to pebbly, then to the harder, malleable clit at the crown. She paused there, setting her lips upon it and rubbing. Shyvana bucked underneath her, little more than a tremulous jump of her hips, and a hissing suck of air as she drew in breath. With every visit up, another throaty moan and writhe followed, and Syndra, enamored with such sensual reactions, kept going.

 

The wetness of not-honey-but-still-good splattered over her lips and into her mouth, but Syndra didn’t care. She licked it up and swallowed, scarcely taking a breath before sealing her lips to Shyvana’s quivering pussy once again. A desire to feel everything—the wet, the hot, the squirms Shyvana made, surged with her need to hear the dragon. Her hand wedged between her own thighs, fingers hastily sinking inside, pumping to the pace of her tongue.

 

The taste of Shyvana’s pussy and her fingers working away swirled together into an altogether, newer sensation. With every stroke she made, she wanted to lick more, and Syndra pursued each one with increasing fervor. Shyvana barked out tiny, throaty moans underneath her, grabbing harder with her hands. The dragon forced her closer and all she knew to do was to simply kiss and lick harder.

 

“Yes, yesss!” Shyvana purred out, her deep voice rising to a rumbling cry. “Keep going! Keep going!” Her deep-skinned glow fluctuated, a wave of fire pulsing through her veins. Syndra only saw little of what was happening, the luminous glow as inviting as a warm campfire. A tightness of presence surrounded the dragon, her errant squirming stilling. Her vagina clenched around Syndra’s tongue, desperately holding still for but a moment.

 

Giddiness filled Syndra at the all too familiar sensation. She raised her lips, dragging her tongue to Shyvana’s clit, and suckling to give her that one, last push. The dragon’s hips bucked, stronger than ever, and a cry escaped her, one sounding more of a beast than human. The air twisted around them in that instant, a rush of movement and a much different sound erupting out.

 

Syndra’s eyes shot up as a brighter light filled her bedroom. The roar of flame filled her ears as her eyes beheld the sight of Shyvana, head back, and spitting flame right into her ceiling. Rich, vibrant reds and oranges spewed out, a hint of blue woven into the torrential blaze, more captivating than any firework Syndra had ever seen. Those fanciful explosions were paltry to what Shyvana could make.

 

_I never knew she could … wait, she’s burning my ceiling._

 

The sovereign blinked. It was very much a wood and paper-oriented ceiling, as almost all Ionian buildings were, save the roof shingles.

 

_OH NO!_

 

Rocketing upward, Syndra raised her hands, strands of tiny lightning crackling out. Where the fire met the ceiling, space-time bent in funny directions, funneling it apart into twisting vortexes. The air shimmered where her magic threatened to emerge in full, the barest event horizons of her dark spheres forming from Shyvana’s draconic flame.

 

In the end, she managed to stop the fire before it began in earnest. A black scorch mark stretched across her ceiling, the faint embers in the paper easy to snuff out with a touch of magic. Syndra let out a sigh of relief, absentmindedly wiping her wet mouth and shaking her hands. The rush of adrenaline didn’t sit well with her naked arousal in the slightest.

 

“Sssorry, sssorry,” Shyvana’s lowly mumbling caught her attention.

 

Looking over, the prone dragon had cast an arm over her eyes, hiding beneath it. The bright fire in her veins had dulled, but all of her body glowed with its subdued heat. “What are you sorry about?” Syndra asked, fanning her hot neck. Sweat, and her own heavy hair, left a flushed toll on her. When no immediate answer came, Syndra tapped Shyvana on the leg, startling the dragon. Two muscular legs closed around her in a pincer, but broke away just as quick for Shyvana to roll away.

 

_What in the world?_

 

“Shyvana,” she spoke sternly.

 

A scowl overcame her, and Syndra curled her fingers. Magic would do what she could not with just her hands and lift Shyvana up.

 

“Hey, ssstop that!” the dragon demanded as she was pulled across the bed. Her useless squirming ceased when she landed head first on Syndra’s lap, the sovereign staring down at her pointedly. “Wh-what?”

 

“Your hair’s a mess,” Syndra remarked airily, weaving her fingers into Shyvana’s red hair. An incredulous look answered her, but she paid it no mind as she brushed bangs and stray locks back into place.

 

“Thanksss? Oh—ssshit.”

 

Syndra followed her gaze up to the ceiling and looked back down amusedly. Shyvana stared at her with wide, almost terrified, eyes. “I suppose I will have to fireproof my bedroom.”

 

“You … you aren’t mad?”

 

“A little surprised, perhaps. It was quite the sight to watch.”

 

“I—um, alright.”

 

“Is your throat dry?”

 

Shyvana’s eyes squeezed shut. “I wasss hoping you wouldn’t notice.” The heavy, flanged became heavy in the aftermath. Her voice, while always ‘growly’ and deep, now had a distinct hiss accenting her words. Farther from a normal human voice, though in the realm of it still. “Jussst, give me a minute to put it down.”

 

“I do not dislike it,” Syndra refuted her gently, poking at Shyvana’s forehead. “What does it mean?”

 

“Sssomething my father left me,” Shyvana said with a dry tone. “Ssspeaking as dragonsss do. Human tongue isss quite different.”

 

“You speak quite well.”

 

“ _After_ I practiced. Ssso many uselesss idiotsss laughed at my ssstupid sssluring.”

 

Syndra rolled her eyes. “Their loss over something so enjoyable to hear.”

 

“You’re jussst being nice.”

 

“In fact, I should hear it the remainder of this evening. You can do that, of course.” She smiled at Shyvana’s disbelieving gaze. Bending down, Syndra crossed the gap between them in an awkward hunch, landing a sweet, full press her of lips to the dragon’s. Throaty chuckles followed her departure as Shyvana rubbed her own face.

 

“What a graceful virgin I have,” she said, more to herself.

 

Syndra neatly cleared her throat, taking a more prim and proper posture. “I hardly think that matters anymore.”

 

“Excussse me. Graceful, lovely _woman_ I have.”

 

Try as she might to ignore the heat in her face, Syndra still ended up squirming. In lieu of passion’s wonderful haze, the full brunt of Shyvana’s words landed squarely inside her. _Lover’s speak is so … so flustering._

 

She hated the embarrassment.

 

On the other hand, she found herself quite fine with Shyvana doing it. “Oh, sit up.” With a bit of a push, she got Shyvana upright. But, before the dragon could turn around, Syndra wrapped her arms around her. Shifting and kicking her legs out, she scooted up and hugged Shyvana from behind, squeezing into her

 

Syndra nuzzled into Shyvana’s ear, setting her lips on the firm outer ridge. “Watch,” she breathed, holding out a hand in front of both of them. Wisps of magic formulated in her palm, the air distorting as shape asserted itself. One dark sphere, then two, and finally three in total, small in stature, and unusually solid looking. Their shimmering horizons were frozen in place, turning them into overtly large marbles.

 

“I will tell you a secret, Shyvana,” Syndra muttered, rolling the spheres in her hands with an old, practiced grace. “Being a lonesome woman has certainly taught me some _interesting_ techniques these can do.” She brought her hand in closer, holding the marble spheres to Shyvana’s face. “Try them.”

 

“Uhh …”

 

Reaching up with her other hand, Syndra slid her fingers across Shyvana’s throat, inching to the bottom of her jaw. She tipped the dragon’s head back onto her chest further and stared down. “For me?”

 

A sound of wanting to disagree came from Shyvana, her face scrunching up. Her gold eyes switched from Syndra’s face to the ceiling above, and she eased up with a sigh. “… Fine. Sssticking little balls—“ she coughed at the sharp look “—ssspheress inssside ssseemss dangerousss.”

 

“They are not.”

 

“What if they get stuck?”

 

“Oh—that. No, they will not.” Tipping her hand in toward Shyvana’s chest, the marble spheres rolled onto her, promptly tumbling their way down. The dragon’s legs shut tight, catching them in her lap.

 

“What the? Are they glassss?”

 

“Gemstone.”

 

“Ssstill feelsss like glassss.”

 

Syndra’s eyebrow tweaked while she and Shyvana stared at each other, her hand still on the dragon’s throat. Every time Shyvana shallowed, or spoke, or even breathed, she felt it all, a surreal and new sensation she hadn’t even imagined possible. “I will simply have to disprove that,” she muttered, distracted. Widened, gold eyes stared at her, and a curious taste of _vulnerability_ mingled to the imposing potential of the dragon.

 

“Oh yeah?” Shyvana mumbled out, her lips peeling into a smile somewhere between a sneer and amusement. “And howssee that—“

 

Squeezing her hand ever so lightly around Shyvana’s throat, Syndra tilted her head back. Those pouty, thin-lips parted, hanging open with a silent gasp of surprise, and a thrilling excitement over came the sovereign. She crossed the gap, claiming this smarty-mouthed dragon for herself, a shiver shooting down her back at the firm, yet malleable lips. Kissing her slowly, she savored every tiny inch their mouths met, and the odd taste of breath inside further. With a pop, she parted just to lick her own sensitive lips, savoring the fresh feeling of Shyvana’s mouth.

 

“What is it you said?” she asked, lowly, her grin devious as she stared into her lover’s eyes. “It was … strong. Mmm, demanding?”

 

“Um …” Shyvana blinked with a sense of confusion. She squirmed when Syndra’s other hand walked down her chest, lithe fingers playing with her hard belly. Her knees locked together harder the lower she went. “W-when?”

 

Pausing, Syndra kept her hand on Shyvana’s belly, splaying her fingers open, and enjoying what tough muscle and scales she felt there. A satisfied hum escaped her and she squeezed closer, her breasts delightfully tight against Shyvana’s back. “Ah, your body is quite the master work, my little dragon.”

 

“Little?” Shyvana scoffed.

 

“I _am_ taller.” Syndra stuck her tongue out a little, earning a surprised look in turn.

 

“T-thatsss cheating!”

 

The sovereign leaned in, silencing Shyvana’s pouty protest with a hard kiss. She pulled away just as quick, enjoying how conflicted Shyvana seemed. Trailing upward with her hand, Syndra grasped at one her modest breasts, the unusually soft skin yielding to her. While not quite as soft or pebbly feeling as the loveliness between her legs, Syndra enjoyed how very perky they were. Shyvana jumped in her arms, a strangled moan of a sound in her throat. “But,” Syndra said, smirking. “I do desire it, you know.”

 

“B-by my father’sss blood, woman, I thought you were a virgin?” Shyvana shot back, her faux-twisting struggles little more than rubbing her body against Syndra’s. A more earnest moan wormed out when the hand on her breast squeezed. She stilled from Syndra’s mouth venturing to her ear, warm breath gently breathing onto it.

 

“You took care of that, did you not?”

 

She truly had no idea if any of that talk worked or not, but Shyvana seemed to love it. A sputtering, malformed answer died in the dragon’s mouth, her hearty, sexual shudder speaking for her. Syndra couldn’t help indulging in the warm, glowing feeling of doing so well, or how excited she made Shyvana. Rough hands grasped at her thighs, squeezing and pushing as if she wanted to be free, but all they did was caress her in turn.

 

“Oh, I just remembered,” she said, laughing an airy giggle. Freeing Shyvana’s breast, Syndra went lower with her hand, her other tight on her throat still. “It was quite, hmm, _sexy,_ hearing it. You should do it more in the future for me.” How red her face must be right now. Syndra tried not to pay any mind to her own blushing.

 

“W-what isss it?”

 

The heat of Shyvana’s loins enveloped her fingers as they nudged past the ignored spheres. Tightly shut together, Syndra couldn’t get deep into Shyvana’s thighs at all, but she didn’t need to, either. She laid her hand there, and said, “Spread your legs, woman.”

 

Huffing in tiny, heated breaths, Shyvana’s thighs rubbed together. One of her hands shot toward Syndra’s and laid on top of it, almost to pull her away, but only pressing her down more. “Do you think a dragon isss sso easssy?” she rumbled with faux-threat, the fire warmth inside her lighting up a little.

 

“Easy? No … but I know you will.”

 

“Why’sss that?”

 

“Because _I_ said to.”

 

Her heart beat furiously in her chest. Syndra loved this play of theirs, yet too, she wasn’t certain what would be too much. Perhaps teasing Shyvana on her height was mean? She _was_ sensitive about such things. Anxiety flitted by, stilling Syndra as graver concerns began to weigh on her mind. Shyvana pushing backward shot her heart into a panic. The dragon shifted, and with her new angle, pushed herself open, her legs coming to rest over Syndra’s.

 

Elation wiped away any worry that overcame her, and giddiness bubbled up in her belly. Reaching lower, Syndra cupped Shyvana’s sopping wet pussy and the dragon jumped a tiny bit. “Good,” Syndra purred into her ear, “this will make it easier.”

 

She plucked up a sphere, rolling the orb between her knuckles, Shyvana’s burning gaze on it all the while. Pressing it against the outside folds of Shyvana’s pussy, she smirked at the small, surprised jump. Wetted and slippery smooth, she waited at the entrance, two fingers ready to push. “Now, relax.”

 

“You’re jussst copying me now, aren’t you?”

 

“Am I wrong?”

 

“You-youuu—“ Shyvana trailed off into a higher pitch, inhaling when Syndra pushed inward. She stiffened on the spot and grabbed Syndra. Little by little, the sphere went inward, the slight resistance of muscles yielding to it. Shyvana broke out into tiny, panting huffs, the jerky spasms of her hips making her buck against Syndra’s fingers. “Holy sssssshit!”

 

“Is there something wrong?”

 

“It’sss kind of—ngh, tight.”

 

It was clear to her that Shyvana was trying to act cool, but everything else betrayed her. Giddy excitement shivered through Syndra at the tiny, strained huffs of breath, and the scale-skin rub against her Shyvana did in her squirming. She hugged closer to the dragon and cupped her wet, twitching pussy lovingly. “Now,” she whispered, resting her chin on top of Shyvana’s head, “for the second one.”

 

“W-wait, two?”

 

“Three, ideally.”

 

“Three??”

 

Finger-deep, and the sphere well inside, Syndra withdrew, reaching for another. “You really do need two or three to appreciate it.”

 

“I can’t fit that many!”

 

“Let us find out.”

 

She had to bite her tongue to stop from giggling at Shyvana’s incredulous and flustered face. Syndra crossed the gap between them, planting a solid kiss on those thin lips. In a short minute, Shyvana began to relax in her arms, yielding to her demand with silent acceptance. Parting, the sovereign smiled, tastefully licking her own lips clean while she enjoyed Shyvana’s blushing face. “Relax,” she said teasingly.

 

A lowly, inaudible grumble answered back.

 

Without skipping a beat, Syndra picked up one of the remaining spheres. Fixed between her fingers, she brought it to the soft folds of Shyvana’s pussy. Syndra smirked and rolled her fingers back and forth, letting the tiny sphere slide up and down, just barely dipping in without committing. A jolt of Shyvana’s hips and a tight grip on her leg told her all she needed. “Well?” she whispered into the dragon’s scaled ear.

 

“W-what? Jussst do it!” Shyvana barked out.

 

Chuckling, Syndra pressed the sphere inward with two fingers, that same resistance of muscles meeting her once again. A tiny, keening cry sounded in Shyvana’s throat, the dragon tightly stiff in her arms. “Does it hurt?”

 

“Keep pusssshing innnn!”

 

A skin-tingling shiver shot down Syndra’s back. Pressing harder, she sank the sphere deeper, soft folds and feminine wetness enveloping her fingers once more. Shyvana jerked in tiny spasms, what might’ve been a moan coming out of her. Satisfied it was in place, Syndra withdrew her fingers to cup Shyvana’s quivering pussy with her whole hand. “There,” she breathed out, heavier than intended. “Two now.”

 

“Fuck, fuck,” Shyvana panted out, her head lolling back onto Syndra’s shoulder. “I’m ssso fucking tight.”

 

Using her other hand, Syndra ran her fingers along Shyvana’s twitchy, rock-hard belly. An earnest gasp followed, the dragon’s very breath erratic from each stroke of her fingers. Perhaps in a little way, she understood how hard Shyvana’s abs clenched, but it was hard to tell what was normal or not for her. Syndra smiled nonetheless and rubbed her face into Shyvana’s wonderfully thick hair. A heavy, not-quite-sweaty scent filled her nose, a mixture of their exertions together and that smoky smell she was starting to enjoy so much.

 

Syndra curled her fingers on Shyvana’s pussy, stroking up and down in slow, but pointed motions. The outer folds, the inner softness, and all the wetness dripping out; she felt everything, even Shyvana’s heart beat with its frantic pace. “Shyvana,” she whispered, clear enough to grab attention.

 

“H-huh?”

 

“What is it called … when a woman feels the best between her legs?” Syndra asked, flexing her fingers into a wide, wholesome grab of the dragon’s hotly dripping pussy. “When her mind goes blank with pure happiness?”

 

“Uh, uhm, mmmmmm …” Shyvana shuddered, her knees turning inward as her lower half clenched for a moment. “I don’t—your fingersss are sssso good …”

 

“That is what I wish from you.”

 

“Huh?”

 

The familiarity of this angle proved more useful than ever to Syndra. Though she had to reach a little farther, and the vagina her fingers played with was different, she knew best how to pleasure herself this way. In turn, she bet the same technique work where. She angled her fingers, bringing them together in pairs, and started her fingering in earnest. “Go blank,” she commanded into the dragon’s ear. “Feel so good you can’t think anymore.”

 

A throaty, choked moan answered in turn, and Syndra clung to Shyvana’s squirming form. Solid, muscular thighs closed around her fingers, but still she worked, delving inside deep with her middle and ring fingers. The very edges of the spheres teased her reach, bouncing and roiling around inside Shyvana as they were. Her palm, at this angle, teasing rubbed against the dragon’s clitoris, not wholly hard, but one each motion made Shyvana’s hips jerk.

 

“Sssyndra,” the dragon hissed out, almost a pant.

 

 _What a pure sound._ Syndra smiled, giddy with happiness, and she brought up her other hand to Shyvana’s modest breast. Far too focused on her diligent working, she grasped it firmly, holding on with only a half-thought of squeezing pleasurably. More than anything else, it gave her a greater hold on the Shyvana, and the sovereign held her dearly, all the way to the roaring end. Though glowing with her magmatic blood, no fire came with Shyvana’s sexual cry, loud in the bedroom, this time. The dragon’s body clenched, twisted, and spasmed, every motion she made going straight into Syndra. Warmth gushed out onto the sovereign’s fingers, joining the other splatters on her bed sheets. Hardness teased her finger tips, and knowing that those spheres sought release as well, Syndra kept them inside, letting them do their work.

 

It took a good few minutes before all the tension in Shyvana bled away into nothing. The dragon went slack in Syndra’s arms, breathing in deep, her eyes shut, and her body’s glow lively. _Such an honest expression,_ Syndra mused, letting go of Shyvana’s breast to follow along the lines with her fingers. Her other hand remained—almost painfully—trapped between Shyvana’s thighs.

 

She could not suppress this _satisfied_ feeling in the slightest. Though her own body yearned for an intimate touch, Syndra relished the satisfaction of having so thoroughly sated Shyvana. Whatever great power the dragon had vanished into a noodly mess in her arms, using _her_ as such a vital place to rest upon. She had read such things in her stories, and but to hold Shyvana herself, that was a world apart.

 

Syndra’s beaming smile went unnoticed, her attentions far too busy on finger combing Shyvana’s hair into place. _I really do need a brush for you, hm?_ She mused, watching as Shyvana’s eyes wearily blinked open. Those golden eyes regarded her with shimmering brightness, her slitted pupils almost circular with how wide they were. Syndra paused, her breath catching in her throat.

 

“You’re good,” Shyvana muttered, her voice surprisingly clear of its draconic tones. “Sssyndra.”

 

“That is high praise coming from you.”

 

Snorting, Shyvana reached up with a hand, hooking behind Syndra’s head. She brought the sovereign in close, sealing the two of them together in a kiss. Hard, but with a certain intimacy, a kindness and love in a way neither of them wanted to put into words. She broke away slowly, smirking with that warrior’s pride of hers. “Quite the virgin, aren’t you?”

 

“Is that so hard to believe?”

 

“For me? Yeah … ‘causssse I can’t believe my luck having a woman like you.”

 

Syndra chuckled and kissed Shyvana’s forehead. “There is a saying in Ionia, between two people like this.”

 

“Yeah? What?”

 

A trickle of embarrassment rose up Syndra’s throat, but in staring into Shyvana’s earnest eyes, she found the strength to go past it. “When one gives … or, is close to another, they say to take care of it, and them. It is … more complicated than that, but …”

 

Shyvana chuckled, and one of her hands sought Syndra’s, intertwining their fingers together. “Yeah. I get it. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you, Sssyndra.”

 

“Good.” Syndra lifted her nose up, staring down it at Shyvana. “I will take care of you in turn, Shyvana.”

 

The dragon broke out into a hissing giggle, one intermixed with a sharp inhale when she shifted her legs. “Look down at me, will you? Jussst … five more minutesss.”

 

Syndra wiggled her stuck hand between Shyvana’s thighs. “Could you open up a little?”

 

“Hm? Oh, but the sovereign is so eager to continue …”

 

 _I’ve been tricked,_ Syndra thought as Shyvana twisted in her arms, suddenly bringing them both face-to-face. Pure desire stared her down in Shyvana’s gaze, and she could only shiver in anticipation.

 

*~*

 

There was an odd feeling tickling Syndra's senses. Her body felt worn out and tired still, even after her slumber. It was a delightful feeling, better than even the tiredness she had after a workout. It beckoned her to laze about, to enjoy it and herself in a wonderful idleness. Yet, a pressure sat upon her chest, its weight unignorable now that she recognized it.

 

She slowly opened her eyes, squinting at the bright morning light trying to shine through her window. Beneath her face lay a mass of red hair, and a hot, steady breathing on her neck. Deep vibrations resonated through her breasts and belly, almost ticklish with their rhythm. The sovereign’s sleep addled brain slowly pieced together not only what happened last night, but the strange thing happening right now.

 

 _Is she … is she purring like a cat?_ Syndra marveled, amusement interwoven with sheer perplexity. A good few minutes of sitting there and thinking on it only reaffirmed her suspicion. Shyvana sat draped over her, face firmly planted into her neck, purring away with utter contentment.

 

Breathing in deep, the taste of each other hung on the air still. Syndra stared up at her burned ceiling, exhaling slowly. Her body tingled the more it woke up, wonderfully numbing heat rolling off of Shyvana in waves. Even asleep, the dragon radiated warmth, explaining in one stroke why her thick bed covers were nowhere to be found.

 

Syndra raised a hand, flexed her fingers to wake up her muscles, then set it upon Shyvana’s back. Hardy scales and rough skin met her, and she held it there, hugging the dragon to her. Her eyes closed, though not to sleep.

 

_Hm, this is nice …_

 

One detail remained, however. A small fact that none of the stories or gossip she’d studied ever mentioned. Such was its potency, Syndra visibly strained beneath it, doing her best to do anything other than get up. The utter hell of this agony certainly made it clear why no one talked about it.

 

_… but I really have to pee._

 

[THE END]

_  
_


	2. Demacian Intrigue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the months after the Ionian Revelry, Syndra finds herself flustered with her newly found affections being deprived from her. In a flurry, she ventures to the city of Demacia to find Shyvana, only to land into the decades old thicket the royal courts have woven around the dragon.

_Fear may be from a lack of understanding, but hatred is always a choice._

 

*~*

 

 

Syndra stared down at the inordinately large pile of scrolls and writings strewn about her office desk, her fingers strumming across the wooden surface as she tried to focus. Hours had passed since she first sat down and the stack of reports remained as intimidating as when she began. She scowled, shaking her head contemptuously at the papers.

 

_Why do I bother?!_

 

Never before had she allowed her concentration to be ruined by such trivial details. She had blamed the heat on the unusually warm month, but it worsened by the day. Fleeting thoughts tormented her, bringing half-remembered pleasures that always left her flustered. Eyes narrowing, her jeweled fingers curled into a half-formed fist and swiped at the air in front of her. A crackling wave of dark energy erupted, violently scattering the cluttered mess across her study room.

 

Syndra shot up from the desk and made her way to an open window, leaning against the wooden frame to stare out into the gardens below.  _These inane reports are beneath my attention,_  she thought irritably, rubbing her temple with the tips of her fingers.  _Why bother asking me where to build a temple?_  Despite the gentle wind's caress over her face, she still felt utterly stifled under her long, flowing dress. She loosened her folded top, freeing her hefty bosom from its stuffy prison.

 

Her mind wandered as it had for weeks, worldly concerns vanishing as she fanned herself. Golden eyes sat radiantly atop dark blue lips, flitting through her mind's eye, a tumultuous vision of familiar warmth pressing up against her, pinning her underneath an invisible weight which both excited and vexed her. Lusciously firm lips drifted teasingly toward her until she could feel their warmth. Just as they met, however, the cold taste of metal tore her away from her fantasy.

 

Syndra glared at her jeweled claws of amethyst and obsidian, the offending things having slipped idly into her mouth. With a scowl, she wiped her mouth and cast the offending appendage away.

 

  _It has been a month and I still cannot stop thinking about her. We had more than enough time together! With how satisfying her massage was, it should not be this infuriating,_  the sovereign reasoned. She closed her eyes and recalled the way that Shyvana had started upon her shoulders in small circles, moving gradually down further and further, her rough hands working the sore knots from her muscles. The mere memory left her skin tingling.

 

Syndra blushed, clenching her legs together a little too tightly.  _Contending with some fool in Negatron weave is less frustrating than this,_  she groused. Her traitorous mind tried recalling her last fruitless attempts before she caught it and whirled away from the window. Frustrated, she stalked across the tatami floor back to her desk and took up her old spot in a huff, sitting cross legged.

 

_Is this what happens after sex? It torments you until you give into it again? How utterly ridiculous._  Her face scrunched at the idea.

 

As Syndra’s thoughts wandered, so too did her gaze. Almost immediately, she settled upon the small panda doll which sat on the corner of her desk, slumped over sideways. Her ire wilted in the face of its blank, lopsided gaze. With a curl of her jewel-tipped fingers, the doll lifted towards her from a touch of her magic.

 

Idly, she fingered the panda’s soft fur, recalling the prideful grin the dragon wore when she had won it for her.  _There is no way people subject themselves to this torture willingly. There must be a way to address this; maybe a calming drink? Perhaps tea?_  She held the thought for a moment before scoffing.  _Hardly._  Turning the doll over in her hands, she squinted into its dumb eyes and ran a hand over its soft, round ears, folding them back and letting go so they popped up again. Slowly, a smile crept at the corner of her lips.

 

In truth, the answer to her problem had always been readily apparent. The very first night she was alone in bed, panting and sweating without any satisfaction, she knew what had to be done. Syndra pursed her lips and irritably squeezed the panda between her hands repeatedly.  _Why must I wait until our next meeting? If that is the only option, it would be faster if I simply went to her myself..._

 

For a brief moment, her fitful frustration halted while the thought took form. She saw an opportunity—almost as if a door had slid open in front of her—and bubbled with anticipation as her plan came together.

 

"Yes, that is true, isn't it?" she asked the panda, her very voice thrumming with excitement. "I can simply go there, can’t I? Oh, there is so much for me to do!"

 

Preparations had to be made, dresses sorted, court and diplomatic routine practiced. At the very least, her visit needed to seem passable to the Demacian rabble Shyvana surrounded herself with. The dragon had been quite insistent that she not cause a scene the last time she visited, a sentiment which Syndra could appreciate.

 

As she made her preparations for the journey, the week flew by in a blur. Whatever menial tasks required attention she off loaded to her subordinates, leaving her free to prepare. Her cover story was simple enough, but the dress demanded the greatest of her attentions. On the one hand, she had to maintain a certain level of decorum and regality. On the other, she needed to lure Shyvana in—to tantalize the dragon—tempting her without being uncouth, in equal parts a dignified sovereign and coy temptress.

 

It wasn't nearly as simple she imagined it to be.

 

*~*

 

The trip proceeded without incident, and soon she arrived at Demacia’s inner palace. There, she was greeted promptly by its court officials and their tedious decorum. They were strangely receptive to her request to meet with the Prince of Demacia despite the suddenness of the visit, and a small cadre of guards were assigned to escort her and her entourage.

 

The guards led the way through one of the palace wings, brimming with soldiers of all kinds. Syndra scowled at their offending looks, turning a fair many heads away. It was only when the escort leader stopped in front of a pair of doors that she looked ahead.

 

"His Highness, Prince Jarvan the Fourth, is out on the training field, Lady Syndra," the leader announced, ceremoniously securing his lance snugly beside him. A nod toward the sentries by the door sent them opening the impressively-tall entrance.

 

Syndra took the lead, gesturing to her servants to stay behind. As the gate opened, the drill yards came into view; a cavernous hall sculpted from the mountain which loomed around her. Battlements had been carved out of where the face of the mountain once was, expanding the training grounds and fortifications. Every part of the area was neatly sectioned off in clearly-cut paths, soldiers of all kinds attending their training with remarkable discipline.

 

Her glowing eyes swept across them all, but one group in particular caught her attention. Huddled near the hall's center, rambunctious and howling onlookers stood at odds against the orderly ranks. Syndra's brow creased and she lifted herself higher into the air, briefly glimpsing a skirmish where a small woman grappled with a giant of a man.

 

Or, more aptly, where her ferocious dragonborn grappled with the Prince of Demacia.

 

_Why are they wrestling?_  Syndra wondered, peeking over the crowd to better see. There, Shyvana stood hand-to-hand with Jarvan IV, the vivid, dark blue scales of her skin contrasting against the prince's golden white uniform. Both focused intently upon each other, arms locked together, but neither had the upper hand. Despite their comical difference in size, the dragon held her ground without budging.

 

Syndra's heart fluttered at the sight and she froze, a blush threatening to reveal itself. With a tight-fitting black tank top and taut black shorts, Shyvana's fierce beauty commanded her attention. Her lithe but firmly-toned figure glistened in the light, beads of sweat slipping into the small crevices of half-formed scales and scars littering her skin. Subdued fire coursed along her veins, magmatic leylines revealing her proud draconic heritage.

 

Every movement conveyed her strength, defined muscles tensing and easing as she stood her ground and grappled with the prince. Syndra’s gaze struggled to rise, lifted only by her mounting desire to see more. Fiery, golden eyes glowed fiercely, and a smug smile curled upon Shyvana's thin lips, her unerring confidence transforming her ferocious beauty into a breathtaking sight.

 

The sovereign lifted her leg atop the other and crossed them, her full-body dress neatly covering to her shins. An effortless thought drew her magics forth, distorting the air as three dark spheres manifested to line up underneath her, serving as a makeshift chair. High above the spectating soldiers, no one paid any attention to her, leaving her undisturbed to watch.  _If I must wait, then at least there is a show,_  she considered, folding her free-floating silk shawl onto her lap.

 

Shyvana lunged threateningly, and in the moment she overstretched, Jarvan snapped a kick toward her ankle. The dragon awkwardly leapt backwards, stumbling onto the ground in a clumsy attempt to dodge. The crowd cheered, clapping or fist-bumping each other at the sight.

 

Syndra, however, was not amused.

 

_He can outreach her, but she is faster and much stronger. That was an easy opening for her to grapple ..._

 

Her glowing eyes narrowed, watching as the two fighters picked themselves up and dusted off. Shyvana's arms stayed low and spaced widely apart as she traced around him, a predatory glint about her. Jarvan remained poised, yet oddly still, neither attacking nor moving to defend himself. He had the advantage, but squandered it in giving Shyvana all the room to work in, and Syndra wasn’t sure what to make of it.

 

Suddenly, the dragon lashed out and feinted to the side at the last moment, tricking the Prince into an opening. Despite the prime opportunity, her blow amounted to little more than a harmless graze across his side, leaving her fatally exposed. Jarvan grabbed her in an instant, turning Shyvana's own momentum against her.

 

Syndra's scowl deepened as the Prince twirled her lover around and hurled her sprawling onto the ground again.

 

_She does not aim that poorly._

 

As fighters squared off again, the sovereign clapped her hands, jostling everyone watching the spectacle. Confused looks passed between the fighters and the crowd until one soul pointed upward, collectively drawing attention to her. She paid them no mind, coolly greeting Shyvana's stunned golden eyes with a tiny sneer.

 

"Dragon, cease this foolishness and  _win_ ," the sovereign demanded with an upturn of her nose.

 

"Syndra? How in –"

 

"Ah, how kind for you to grace us with your presence once again, Lady Syndra," Jarvan cut in over Shyvana's sputtering. He thumped a fist into open palm, flexing his bare, chiseled shoulders. "Though I must admit I am somewhat surprised; I don’t recall this being arranged."

 

"My visit is strictly informal, I assure you. I have business with you and the dragon." Smiling thinly, Syndra waved her jeweled fingers invitingly. "But please, finish. I can wait."

 

The fighters looked toward each other as the crowd around them cowed, their jubilance bled away by the interruption, each shuffling awkwardly beneath the sovereign's gaze.

 

"All or nothing, then?" Jarvan proposed, setting his legs apart and holding his hands up.

 

"All or nothing," Shyvana echoed with a growl, mirroring him.

 

The very air around her lover changed an instant, Syndra noted. She glanced at Jarvan, seeing that he must have noticed the same thing. Shyvana carried herself with serious purpose unlike the amiably lax attitude before. The fine hairs on Syndra's airs prickled at the sight, her own toothy smile coming out.

 

Hand-to-hand the fighters met, at first simply trying to bowl the other over. Their spar carried on for minutes, each blow striking faster and harder until Jarvan weaved underneath Shyvana's fist to catch her from below. Just as he moved to strike, however, Shyvana turned his own momentum against him by twisting his unsteady footing, slamming him into the ground with such force that even Syndra felt it.

 

_Better._

 

The crowd almost erupted in a cheer as the final blow was struck until they saw who it was. Most of them quickly dispersed afterwards, but a few loitered, leaving Shyvana and the Demacian prince to collect themselves. She offered him an arm and helped him to his feet, and Jarvan dusted himself off, leaving the dragon to raise her arms questioningly at Syndra, her brow cocked.

 

"Hah! Now that is a fight," Syndra said, much to her lover's annoyance. Rising upright from her seat, the sovereign descended just ahead of Jarvan, hovering with regal posture, spheres floating around her.

 

"I will admit, you've certainly caught me at a disadvantage,” he said, inclining his head to take a small towel from a nearby soldier.

 

"I would not be concerned over it. It would hardly be amusing to fight if you did not have your armor and lance."

 

Jarvan snorted, wiping at his face and sweat-drenched hair. "At least you have the courtesy to let me dress," he remarked and passed the towel back. "You mentioned business with me?"

 

"Yes. Aside from my usual exercises against the dragon there," Syndra said, glancing over her shoulder. "A small curiosity crossed my path that interested me in speaking to you."

 

"An intriguing offer, if it should require your personal attention," Jarvan returned smoothly. "Please, a moment to collect myself, and I shall meet you outside."

 

"Of course." Syndra nodded, gliding through the drilling yard until she reached its still-open doors. Her attendants gathered around in haste, heads politely bowed, but relaxed as she gave a simple wave.

 

_Hnn, Shyvana did seem upset,_  she mused, curling a fist under her chin. The dragon made it clear any affairs within Demacia were to be business only. Murmurs of court intrigue and dishonored reputations had been mentioned as the reasons, but Syndra didn't care to remember exactly.  _I need only entertain him long enough to secure his consent for my request._

 

A small cadre of soldiers marched forth from the drilling yards with practiced routine, surveying the area and talking amongst themselves. Satisfied, they split in two, each smaller group proceeding down separate directions of the hallway. Jarvan emerged not long after, Shyvana in tow behind him. The two had donned their traditional armor and helmets, surprisingly proper despite the workout. Two guards began to step up to the prince's flanks, but a curt look over his shoulder stilled them. He nodded to Syndra with an inviting wave of his hand.

 

"I trust your trip here was uneventful?" Jarvan inquired, gesturing to follow as he led the way back into the palace.

 

"Entirely. I noticed the guard was quite receptive to my arrival."

 

"Shyvana requested accommodations be made in case you wished to duel somewhere more secure."

 

Syndra blinked owlishly, barely containing the rest of her surprise. Her head tilted enough she caught her lover from the corner of her eye, seeing the dragon look straight ahead without flinching. "Did she now? I had thought to spare you the trouble of causing  _unwanted_  harm to your palace."

 

At her implied hesitance, Jarvan gave a hearty laugh. "If a single mage could bring harm to this place, I'd love face such a challenge."

 

The sovereign's lip twitched into the slightest of grins. "As would I," she returned.

 

"Haha, good! Now to the business you spoke of!" Jarvan said, his joviality bleeding away with frightening quickness.

 

Syndra made a show of looking at the quiet dragon, in plain sight of Jarvan. "Is it safe to speak in front of your servants?"

 

The prince's thick eyebrow cocked at the question. "Of course. What I hear, Shyvana hears." They rounded a corner, pulling out from the mountainous interior and more into the grandiose palace proper.

 

Syndra lowered herself, letting her bare toes skim the cold marble floor. "An interesting proposition crossed my way through one of the Ionian villages. They have stumbled across a range of high ranking Noxian officers, but none who have been in Ionia before."

 

"You keep track of them?"

 

"Extensively," Syndra replied airily. "We think they came from this part of the mainland. I had wondered if you might be willing to lend an agent of your own. A fresh set of eyes to a familiar problem."

 

"You would handle them on your own terms, I imagine," Jarvan wagered. “Why involve Demacia in your business?"

 

"An open invitation," the sovereign said plainly. "An Ionian concept I am unsure your people might have. I would need your agent's knowledge, mainly, to understand why Noxus moved their officers. You are welcome to be involved for your own purposes, of course."

 

Jarvan shook his head with a hearty chuckle, sending his unwrapped hair tussling. "In Demacia, offering such work might be seen as trying to pass it off onto another."

 

Syndra drew back, lips pursed. "That is not my way."

 

"I know." The prince adjusted his forearm guards. "Which is more than I could say of others. Very well, Sovereign, I'll consider your offer. It would be best if you stayed the day; the person I have in mind is out till the morrow."

 

_Is he not going to offer Shyvana?_  A sourness, not unlike rotten fruit, sat in her mouth. Suddenly her idea had gone completely the wrong way. She grit her teeth and stiffly folded her hands together behind her back. "I require lodgings then."

 

"The best for a guest of Demacia," Jarvan said, eying an upcoming intersection further down the hall. He turned into the entrance, flanked by Syndra and Shyvana, leading them into the awaiting lobby before turning to address them. "Excuse me, there is someone I must speak with."

 

The moment after he disappeared behind the set of white-gold doors, Shyvana rushed toward Syndra, fire all but spitting from her eyes. "What are you  _doing_?!" she hissed, nearly running into the floating mage, peering up her. "You can't just come to the palace unannounced!"

 

"And why should I not go where I want to?" Syndra returned coolly, cocking her eyebrow. Her lover twisted into knots, face contorted between disbelief and scowling.

 

"Every one of these tight-lipped quill pushers has rules they would claw eyes out for. Not just anyone can waltz right in!"

 

"How fortunate, then, that I am above such a petty station." Syndra glanced over her shoulder, noting her servants remained out of sight, as they should. She leaned her head down the rest of the way, touching their noses together, and mindfully made a point of speaking slowly. "The Sovereign of Ionia is not some peasant to be ignored, dragon," she said, her clean breath brushing over Shyvana's lips.

 

A tiny, frustrated grunt escaped Shyvana, her hands clenching incredulously before grabbing her closer. She brought their lips a hair's breadth away, freezing just before the kiss could happen.

 

Syndra's heart fluttered in anticipation, delectable heat just within reach. She waited, eyes shut, ready for the kiss she'd thought of weeks. What she didn't expect was for the heat to vanish; as Shyvana pulled away, her eyes snapped open and she scowled at the dragon’s impudence, reaching over to grab the back of her head. Syndra sealed her purple painted lips to the smaller woman's, ignoring her surprised grunt.

 

It took every ounce of her will not to shake from the sweet, electric caress she'd craved so much. Despite the dry taste of her lover's lips, she nibbled the lower one tenderly in invitation. Shyvana's stunned eyes finally blinked, her sputtering disbelief making Syndra pull away. "I have waited nearly three weeks for that," she whispered thickly, "and I fully intend to take more."

 

The sound of a boot hitting wood sent them both flying back; the doors swung open, Jarvan strolling forth with a burly-looking guard suited in white plate mail accompanying him. He gave them both an appraising look, settling upon Syndra.

 

"I've verified that Quinn will arrive tomorrow. Our discussion will have to wait until then. Unfortunately, I'm needed elsewhere."

 

"Very well," Syndra agreed, hiding her annoyance.

 

"A servant will arrive shortly to see you around the palace as you need, Lady Syndra." Jarvan's brow furrowed thoughtfully and he glanced at Shyvana. "Wasn't there a ball tonight? I remember talk about one being hosted."

 

Shyvana gave him a dubious look. "The only one I know of is Fiora's over in the east wing, my Prince. You know, because her invitations still find me somehow."

 

"That's the one," Jarvan said with a wry chuckle. "If it interests you, Lady Syndra, perhaps you might enjoy an evening of entertainment from Demacia’s best?"

 

"I admit to some curiosity," Syndra answered. Nonetheless, her official cover story was settled; no one should find her lingering presence for the day awkward enough to question. "I shall leave you to your work then, Prince Jarvan”, Syndra replied, inclining her head. "For now, I desire a stroll through your  _extravagant_  palace."

 

"Please, consider yourself my welcome guest. I shall see to it that I can make dinner tonight, at the least."

 

"Until next time, my prince," the dragon respectfully acknowledged. Jarvan waved courteously and departed, his armored companion following after.

 

In credit to Demacian punctuality, Syndra only waited a few minutes before a demure-looking man servant came. She directed him to her entourage, instructing them that they would be free until the evening. The man servant was bewildered at being rebuffed so quickly, but diligently helped her attendants.

 

"I'll handle the sovereign personally," Shyvana remarked, rolling her eyes.

 

"See that they are allowed to come and go from the palace," Syndra added, waving her hand dismissively.

 

Whatever protests the man might've had were drowned out by the sovereign's entourage. They quickly absconded with him to take care of the business she'd given them before they left for Demacia. Waiting until they were out of sight, Syndra's gaze crawled toward the flustered Shyvana. The dragon's blue cheeks hummed with glowing veins, worming through her skin and scales; few things elicited such impropriety as a blush and Syndra took a perverse pleasure in the achievement. Twisting around through the air, she flew forward, listening for boot-heavy footsteps.

 

"I have never been to this part of the palace before," she mentioned offhand, eying the vaulted ceiling. It was grand in every sense, lined with tall marble pillars and an impressive collection of artwork arranged along its walls. Fine tables, crafted from golden-brown oak, lined the hall in set intervals, adorned with vases full of colorful flowers. She found the entire arrangement to be incredibly opulent, to the point of being wasteful. "Do all Demacians prefer slathering their riches about like this?"

 

"Better here than some hole in the ground," Shyvana muttered from beside her. "You might enjoy the gardens."

 

"Perhaps you should show me then," Syndra dipped down and whispered in the dragon's ear.

 

Shyvana nearly tripped over herself. "T-that'd hardly be proper, I'm a royal guard, not a tour guide."

 

"Then this dress will be wasted on some hapless fool," Syndra shot back, making a show of turning up her nose. Hovering ahead ever so slightly, she held her smile as Shyvana grabbed her hand with haste.

 

"I didn't … Syndra,  _please_ ," the warrior whispered stiffly, sounding apologetic and frustrated. "The people here won't understand; some would even use it against me!"

 

"And you are afraid of that?" Syndra retorted, raising her brow, smoothly. "A  _dragon_  afraid?"

 

"They have the ear of the king and the prince!" Shyvana hissed, ripping her hand back as they heard the sound of people coming from ahead. The two of them passed by the Demacians silently, a few of the soldiers glancing by, curiously.

 

"Ah, such a long and boring journey to come here," the sovereign remarked with a sigh. "I suppose I could see how many Demacians I could juggle. That might hold me over till bed."

 

"Gods damned–fuck it, come here!" Shyvana snarled, grabbing Syndra's wrist and dragging her into one of the alcoves lining the palace wall. Only a potted flower bush concealed them from any casual onlookers passing by.

 

Syndra was pressed into the wall with a surprised grunt, leaving her staring at eye level with the dragon. Two strong, gloved hands pinned her arms beside her, and the cold floor unwelcomingly greeted her nearly naked feet. With a scowl, Syndra hiked her legs up and straddled Shyvana's hips, the length of her dress hitching over her thighs.

 

"I'm  _not_  afraid," the dragon growled softly into Syndra's helmet-covered ear.

 

The Ionian's creamy face lit up in a blush, an unease settling in her breast. Desire warred with embarrassment and she met Shyvana's strained stare with a tentative wiggle of her legs. "Then why do you cower from them?" Syndra asked, trying to maintain a dignified tone. The rush of the dragon’s warmth, tempered by the cool armor hiding it, left her heart skipping.

 

"Nowhere else have I ever been accepted," Shyvana mumbled, burying her face in the crook of the sovereign's neck. "Before you, only Jarvan saw me as a person. He understood my struggle, bled beside me in battle, fought and killed in my honor. But, these others ..." Drawing herself up, she came face to face with Syndra, her fired eyes wide open. "He isn't like them, he'd understand, but he is a prince. They would make him do it and I would lose my battle brother."

 

As much as Syndra wanted to indulge her fantasies, Shyvana's despondent sighing dampened such a notion. She wiggled her arms free and hugged herself to Shyvana, letting the dragon brace her with her armored hips.

 

"I don't know how to have all of it," the dragon mumbled, eyes closing. "The woman of my dreams, my brother, and these lands that would be my home."

 

Her last words struck a chord in Syndra, reminding the sovereign of a disturbingly familiar problem she had once faced herself. The last of her lust drained away, reality stepping in its stead; now, an emotion she loathed to experience—much less give power to—loomed in her mind. Snaking her fingers up along Shyvana's cheek, she cupped her cheek and gently rubbed with her thumb.

 

"I understand," Syndra muttered, making Shyvana's eyes open slowly. "I am," she struggled with the next word, "sorry, I reacted like that."

 

"You were right to—"

 

"Shut up and accept it or I will take it back," Syndra interjected quickly, her soft look hardening in an instant.

 

The dragon blinked slowly before an uneasy smile spread across her thin lips. She tilted her head ever so slightly, their noses rubbing together.

 

Syndra's breath caught at the encompassing view of her lover's shining gold eyes. The tiniest flecks in that dazzling gaze captivated her, Shyvana's comfortable heat enveloping her as their lips pressed together. The delicate kiss caught Syndra off guard, her mouth partly open from surprise. The smoother sides of their lips molded to one another, but a sharp coldness pressed into her thighs, eliciting a stiff gasp that broke the silence.

 

"What's wrong?" Shyvana asked worriedly, snapping awake.

 

"As much as I want you against me," Syndra remarked with a sly smile, "I would prefer it without the armor."

 

Confusion flickered across Shyvana's face, her gaze following the sovereign's downward. Syndra's shin-length, thigh-hugging dress had hitched all the way up, its dark plum folds and pink-blossomed etchings crumpled around her hips. The long leggings she wore cut just above her knee served only to accent the nakedness of her upper thighs and the valley between. There were no panties to speak of, nothing to hide her from Shyvana's wide-eyed stare.

 

"You … you're—"

 

"Do appreciate  _my_  foresight in treating you," Syndra teased, rolling her hips. She kept from touching the armor, grinning at Shyvana's lecherous appreciation. "I feared anything I wore might end up stained or torn to pieces," she remarked accusingly, her lover grinning with a cheeky smile.

 

Just then, the pitter-patter of feet reached their ears from across the hall, snapping both of them to attention. Shyvana's glare snapped over her shoulder, teeth bared in a silent hiss. She mindfully let Syndra down and peeked around the corner of the alcove, leaving the Ionian to straighten out her clothes.

 

_An echo?_  Syndra wondered, adjusting her helm. Her brow raised at Shyvana's confused look when she returned.

 

"No one's there," she said, shrugging.

 

"Then let us leave. You mentioned gardens earlier, show me them. I am a little curious at what wasteful display of Demacian decor it must be."

 

"Heh." Shyvana rolled her eyes, a knowing look hiding in her eyes. "You'll be surprised. Come on, it's this way."

 

The Demacian warrior led onward, giving Syndra the time to collect herself and piece together a workable plan. The entire situation annoyed her to no end; the excursion had already caused more trouble than she had anticipated. While she had a few solutions for the Demacian agent in mind, Shyvana's situation demanded complete attention. Her usual methods wouldn't work here, or at the very least, were to be a last resort.

 

During her musing, the Ionian's eyes rested on one place in particular.

 

The natural sway of the Shyvana’s hips raptly held Syndra's gaze, clouding her idle thoughts. The crimson armor fit snugly, accenting her in a way that tempted Syndra to run her hands over the warrior's rear and mouthwatering curves. It would be easy to sidle up and take hold of her delectable hips, groping them to her heart's content, but they were still too exposed to undeserving eyes.

 

Syndra contented herself with imagining the armor and underclothing stripped away. The memories of their first night teased her mind, wistful wonders she held close each day since then. How well did she remember all of it? The odd, quirky but cute placements of scales, the way Shyvana tensed as her legs were spread open, or the growling moan that escaped from her kisses?

 

The lewd game kept her thoughts busy as they passed through the fortress, an uncomfortably familiar coil of tension arising in her belly.

 

As they passed through the archway to the outside, the palace walls began to fade, giving way to lavish flower beds and tall trees. Shyvana’s voice snapped Syndra from her reverie, though she missed some of the words. "... I'm not sure why they call this a garden. It's more of a forest. When they expanded the palace, they built outwards.”

 

Where a lesser person might have seen the wild, untamed brush as little more than overgrown weeds, Syndra saw them for what they truly were. Beneath their wild exterior, each flower fit a precise color code, every bush arranged in meticulous patterns. The trees were healthy and neat, spaced in staggered rows with walls of brush connecting them. Together, they wove a delicate sense of order from the chaos, much to her begrudging respect.

 

"They  _built_  a forest," she noted, fleetingly catching Shyvana's eye as they traveled together along the path.

 

 "Yeah. If you keep an eye out for them, you might see some of the battlements."

 

"Why would they add fortifications?"

 

Shyvana scratched her scaly cheek. "Well, from what I remember, they used to put catapults here. Once they pushed Noxus back far enough for the outer walls to be built, they were useless. A few bored nobles later and here this thing is."

 

After some curious looking, Syndra thought she spotted a few remains of emplacements, nothing more than rocky foundations. "Huh. How pragmatic."

 

"Ehh," Shyvana grunted, arms stretching overhead. "If you want a bunch of flowers, you should see the courts. That’s where they keep the really fancy stuff. They're not at all like your gardens, though."

 

"Is that so?"

 

"Everything here is tense," Shyvana said, pausing in search of the last word. "Always standing at guard. I can actually relax in your pretty pink flowers."

 

Whether it been her intended meaning or not, Syndra couldn't help feeling smug at the compliment. Her personal gardens had been carefully cultivated over a number of years; each rock, flower, and blade of grass had been shaped by hand. To hear that Shyvana preferred her work filled the sovereign with immense satisfaction. "Is that why there was a dragon-shaped hole after you visited them?" she accused mockingly, arousing a laugh.

 

As they emerged from the thickets, they reached what she thought might have been a meadow. The path lazily inclined to a rolling hill in the center, dotted by wildflowers of every yellow, white, and blue she could imagine. For a moment she thought the Demacians had let it run wild, but a pattern emerged as she stared, some strange design wrapping around the grounds.

 

"This is it, really. The bigger ones have benches and statues, but ..." Shyvana trailed off, shrugging her shoulders. "It's easier to train new recruits without all that junk in the way."

 

"They train here, in the middle of the gardens?"

 

"On some days. It's a shorter hike than going outside the city walls."

 

Syndra hovered regally alongside Shyvana as they ascended the crown of the hill, rolling her eyes at how the dragon trudged through the flowers without a care. They stood at eye level with the tree tops, granting them a fine view of the palace's grand domes and towering, skyward spires. She couldn't help but feel a foreboding sense of presence as she studied the immense place, dwarfed by its massive construction.

 

"Damn, I'm missing lunch, aren't I?" Shyvana groused, folding her arms together.

 

"What?"

 

"Everyone's off inside already."

 

Syndra glanced around, not finding a sign of any life in the gardens or the greater fortress. "You can tell?"

 

"You don't see anyone patrolling the walls, do you?"

 

"I doubt if there were hundreds it would feel less empty …"

 

Chortling, Shyvana grabbed at Syndra's leg, giving her a playful shake. "Empty? It's huge! Just look at all this big, meaty fortress we've built!"

 

Although the Ionian smiled, a touch of trepidation filled her all the same.  _And yet small people live in it with their pointless problems. You are so much more than this, Shyvana ..._

 

She set down on the flowery grass, standing beside the dragon. "Earlier, you said that the prince would understand, but others would force his hand?"

 

Shyvana looked over from the corner of her eye, her lip twitching. "Yeah. Jarvan's a warrior, first and foremost. I proved myself and he accepts that. He doesn't play politics, but even he can't ignore the royal houses."

 

"How many are there?"

 

"Four or five? Jarvan's is Lightshield, then there’s Crownguard, Laurent; I forget the others."

 

"Which is the most troublesome?"

 

"Besides all of them?" Shyvana teased with a small grin. "Crownguard. Their house is sworn to Lightshield and Demacia, purity of purpose in all things."

 

"Their two houses are close?"

 

"Almost inseparable."

 

Frowning, Syndra folded her arms together into the sleeves of her dress.  _Our lands are different and yet I am reminded of the Court of Villages._  Pinching the bridge of her nose, she lamented how needlessly complicated her one-day foray had become. If it meant peace for Shyvana, however, she'd deign to handle the issue personally. "If they were taken care of, would Jarvan still be a problem?"

 

"I doubt it," Shyvana replied, scratching at her blue cheek. "There are idiots elsewhere, but they don't really matter."

 

"Then we focus on the Crownguards and make  _sure_  they do not want to be a problem for you."

 

Chortling with disbelief, the dragon raised her hands and shrugged her shoulders. "And how do we do that?"

 

"By making you irremovable."

 

Her thin eyebrow arching up, Shyvana folded her arms together. "What?"

 

"Think on it. If the Crownguards are invulnerable, then make it so you cannot be removed," Syndra pointed out. "Take up a position so dangerous they would not risk it."

 

"They still think I'm an outsider after all these years, how would I even do that?"

 

"That, I am still figuring out." The sovereign sighed, staring at the trees around them aimlessly. "You have a history with Jarvan, that should matter for something. The whole of Demacia cannot think to exclude your service." Her words hung between them in the following silence as she mulled over how to actually help Shyvana.

 

_I could no more tell the forest from the trees,_  Syndra grumbled to herself, rubbing her helm-covered forehead. The weight of Shyvana’s hand on her shoulder drew her attention, and the dragon gave a warm, thankful smile. But before she could return it, Shyvana’s hand slipped down and grabbed at her lower back, pulling her closely against the unyielding armor and eliciting a gasp.

 

"No underclothing, hmm?" Shyvana's low voice rumbled with intrigue, her glove hand roaming lower and cupping Syndra's bottom, strong fingers grabbing a cheek appreciatively through the fine dress.

 

Syndra rolled her hips against her lover's greedy hand encouragingly. She frowned playfully at Shyvana's cocky grin, but gasped as the warrior raised her hand and firmly slapped her rear. "How rude!" she admonished, despite her own lascivious desires. "Perhaps I was wrong to be so considerate!"

 

Pulling away from Shyvana's hand took more effort than she expected; it had seemed simple at first, but she quickly missed the strong grip on her back all the more. She couldn't return now—not without losing—and resolved instead to saunter down the hill, awaiting her companion.

 

Heavy footsteps followed after, catching up just as she reached the tree line. She expected to be grabbed by the rump again—or maybe the shoulder—but Shyvana did neither, sweeping her legs out from underneath her. A tiny yelp escaped as the world shifted sideways, Shyvana carrying her away hurriedly into the shrubbery beside the cobblestone path.

 

"Oh, somebody help, a dragon is kidnapping me," Syndra cried in a low, mocking attempt to sound meek. She kicked her legs for added effect, stirring a snorting chuckle from her lover. "Whatever do you plan on doing?"

 

Shyvana took her into a tiny, secluded outcropping, pressing the mage’s back against a nearby tree in response. "Such a noisy woman, pleading like that," she growled, leering mischievously as Syndra wrapped her legs around the dragon’s hips. Slowly, she moved her gloved hands underneath the woman's knees and roughly braced her against the bark of the tree trunk, glowering downwards with golden eyes. “Maybe I should just eat you here instead of my lair."

 

Syndra tilted her head back and clutched her hands to her chest mockingly, the horns of her helm digging into the tree. She moaned as she felt the smooth leather brushing against her skin and lifting her dress higher. The two hands crept upwards and squeezed at the undersides of her thighs, just before her butt, causing a pleasurable jolt to snap Syndra awake. "W-wait," she hissed, her fair cheeks blushing hotly. "We are in public!"

 

"Public, hmm?" Shyvana hummed mockingly. Her eyes flashed lewdly at her creamy smooth skin, accenting her grabbing hands. "I guess you’re right. I have drills soon, inspections, recruits to scare shitless ... my, I'll be busy until nightfall. Isn't that a shame?"

 

The sovereign's mind whirled at the implications. Noon had barely begun and she knew there would be a formal dinner, at least. It would be hours before they'd be together again, and hours longer before they could be alone. Hours of waiting through mind-numbing politics and pointless drivel, without a hint of relief in sight except the two hands which inched tantalizingly toward her butt.

 

_That is not fair!_

 

Throughout Syndra's troubled realization, the dragon waited with agonizing patience, an expectation of inevitability in her predatory grin.

 

"F-fine,” Syndra sputtered, her bottom lip quivering in disbelief that she was even entertaining the notion.

 

"I'm not forcing you," Shyvana said, reservedly.

 

The sovereign stuck her nose up and folded her arms in spite of her warming cheeks. "No, you are not," she said, earning a wide, almost lecherous, smile. The hairs on her neck rose as Shyvana leaned in, warm lips settling on her throat with a needy suckle. Her toes curled and she gasped, stirring a smile from the scaly mouth upon her.

 

"S-shut up," Syndra barked quietly, smacking Shyvana's shoulder armor. The warm lips parted and a tongue licked her collar playfully. With a wet, skin-pulling pop, the dragon pulled away.

 

 "I didn't say anything," Shyvana pointed out, sounding overly pleased. She slipped her hands down and grabbed Syndra's knees, prying her legs off from around her firmly. With a quick adjustment, she helped the Ionian stand up against the tree before she kneeled down. In the same casual, strong-handed motion, Shyvana lifted one of Syndra's legs onto her shoulder, the entirety of the woman's dress out of her way.

 

The barbed, half-formed retort Syndra had readied fell apart quickly as she felt Shyvana’s warm breath on her naked mound. Twin, golden eyes peeked up and caught hers, a visceral realness of what they were doing striking Syndra. Her woman knelt between her legs, brimming with eagerness and framed by her wide-horned helmet. It didn't matter anymore that they were in some foreigner's forest-garden, all that mattered was Shyvana's loving nuzzle and adoring gaze.

 

_Oh, yes, right there._  Syndra smiled, relishing the feel of rough scales rubbing against her smooth skin and Shyvana's long tongue dipping between her inner thighs. She clutched her dress with one hand, keeping it out the way, while the other went to Shyvana's helm, grabbing one of its horns. She held tightly as the dragon’s tongue travelled lazily across her wet womanhood, just barely teasing the skin. Clenching her thighs together, she tried nudging Shyvana on, stirring a throaty chuckle.

 

Her loins tightened in sweet anticipation as Shyvana inched her way down, goosebumps racing up her back. The fat tip of Shyvana's tongue slithered onto her folds, drawing across her vulva slowly. Syndra couldn't stop the jerk of her hips, quivering with each probing tastes. Top to bottom, Shyvana teased, dipping along the edge and then withdrawing, her dance ending with a hearty, mouthful kiss.

 

The sovereign's fist tightened, bunching the fabric of her dress up in her hand, and her very breath caught in her throat. Anger warred with arousal, her face twitching between the two. "Do not tease me, dragon," she whispered, eyes flashing dreadfully. "I have longed nearly a month now for this."

 

The command sent Shyvana shoving into her, the broad length of her tongue plunging inside. Syndra's glowing eyes shot open in an instant, her thighs hugging the sides of Shyvana's face as she curled her tongue upwards. It slid across the very roof of her womanhood, drawing out an electric pressure beneath her clitoris that nearly made her buck.

 

The last vestiges of her control fought to keep her from shoving the woman down further. "Ahh, Shy-vana," she rasped, interrupting the dragon's name with a moan. Her lover pressed in a little harder, reaching deeper and pushing that wonderfully gripping tightness in her belly further and further.

 

A gruff voice shouted suddenly through the forest-garden, interrupting them. "I say, Shyvana are you still out here?!"

 

Syndra's eyes snapped opened instantly as the frigid weight of reality slammed into her. Anger, horniness, and embarrassment swept through her, leaving her head spinning dizzily. Shyvana tugged away from her and she reluctantly let go, the sharp, bitter cold of the air embracing her in her partner’s departure. Indignant anger triumphed and Syndra scowled nastily, mirroring the same from the dragon.

 

Staring off into the foliage, Shyvana's eyes narrowed to frightening slits of boiling magma. "What is  _that_  shithead doing here?!" Shyvana muttered incredulously, growling each word.

 

"Who is it?" Syndra whispered dourly, uncertain if they were about to be caught. At Shyvana's begrudging insistence, she peeled her legs from around the dragon’s shoulders, standing awkwardly on the tree's roots. Finding herself uncomfortably exposed, she scowled deeply and shoved her dress downwards, the tight cloth an unwelcome replacement for Shyvana's heated scales.

 

"Garen Crownguard," the dragon answered sourly, wiping her mouth.

 

_Crownguard._

 

"Why is he here?" The sovereign demanded lowly, squeezing her thighs together.

 

"I don't know," Shyvana grunted, adjusting her horned, lop-sided helmet. "I’d better deal with him."

 

Her jeweled hand shot out and grabbed the woman's breastplate. Syndra yanked the warrior close, bringing them flush together, whispering into her ear. "I suggest you be on time tonight."

 

A cocky smirk flashed across Shyvana's face as she closed the gap and delivered a swift and forceful kiss, grabbing roughly at Syndra’s hips. "Patience, woman. You'll be on your back before the moon is high."

 

Syndra jumped as she felt a playful slap on her butt, eyes widening as Shyvana walked off with a swagger and disappeared into the forest. All the while, she blushed a dark red, her head buzzing from the impact of her lover’s strong hand.  _She's always so ..._  Syndra marveled, grasping for words. Not rude, but forceful—perhaps even brutish. It was a carnally simplistic promise. A part of her found it almost vulgar and distasteful, yet she was unable to help herself from wanting it so much more.

 

She flexed her jeweled hand, electricity crackled between her fingers. The light within her palm was swallowed into the black, spherical emptiness at its center, an eerie radiance shimmering across its event horizon. The sovereign squeezed and plied the dark sphere within her hands, disregarding its protesting crackles.

 

_Fine, then. Tonight it is._

 

*~*

 

The hours passed slowly under Syndra's scrutiny, her servants toiling frantically to find the information she’d demanded on Demacia's royal houses. Despite their efforts, they found only trivial details and boastful accomplishments. She’d already understood the basics of each House—Laurent, for example, being pariahs even amongst the nobility— but there was nothing exploitable.

 

_This is more difficult than I expected. She has no property, wealth, or familial history. It is only the word of the Prince that keeps her within Demacia. They even shame her blood!_  She scoffed at the notion. To think that such mystical icons were hunted and killed with fervent abhorrence was a step beyond reason.

 

Jarvan remained the best option, as well as the most dangerous. While he might be willing to side with Shyvana, he was a man beholden to the whims of his nation. She'd seen what happened to village elders who lost power before, and she doubted even he would survive any better than they did.

 

She knew there had to be a way, even if she couldn't see it quite yet.  _Jarvan needs the support of his people, but so too does Shyvana. If the people hate Shyvana for what she is, then how do you make them support her?_

 

One-by-one, her servants returned while she contemplated the solution. Before long, a Demacian maid appeared in the twilight hours, summoning them for the evening ball. They left together for one of the host wings, a splendid reception hall which rivaled the opulence of the main palace itself.

 

A set of white wood doors stood at the end of the long corridor, rimmed with gold. The usual bulkiness of the fortress disappeared here, the once-thick, sturdy columns became thin and the arches were frail and skeletal. Even the passing guards seemed demure without their armor. Vibrant flowers lined the edges of the floor's walkway, red roses standing prominently amongst the blues and yellows.

 

She arched her brow at a curious group of nobles whisking from one room into the room beyond, each dressed in poufy clothing, and squinted at the maid. "Are all Demacian gatherings so crowded?"

 

"Certainly not, madam," the maid said with a start, fidgeting under the attention. "Tonight’s function is hosted by House Laurent as a ... get-together, I suppose you could say." She waved to the banners hanging from the doors, which bore gilded emblems of a rose with a thin sword behind it. "The first in quite a long time, I believe."

 

The maid stopped them at the white wooden doors, speaking with an overly-dressed doorman. The two exchanged looks between themselves before pausing to look toward Syndra, nodding. Once their conversation concluded, the maid turned and addressed her. "He will announce you properly, Madam. Please enjoy the rest of your evening," she said, excusing herself.

 

Syndra glided after the doorman and straightened to her proper height, preparing to enter the grand hall with her entourage.

 

With a voice practiced from years of work, the doorman's loud declaration lanced through the cacophony of idle chatter. "May I present the Sovereign of Ionia, Syndra, and escort!" He heralded with a dramatic flourish, stepping out of the way.

 

The rumbling of idle conversation quieted at the announcement, hundreds of eyes turning in unison towards her. The hairs upon her neck stood up at the unwelcome stares as Syndra gave the crowd a contemptuous sneer.  _They would presume to stare at me while wearing those gaudy things?_

 

Nearly every person present was dressed in a frilly, overly complicated  _mess_  of clothing. Where Ionian decor dictated neat, immaculate designs which elegantly flowed, Demacian design felt distinctly more akin to shouting or bludgeoning. The men were clad in puffy shoulders with sleeves twice the length of their arms, and the women wore long, shimmering gowns which simply ballooned around them.

 

"You all know what to do," Syndra said to her servants, directing them in their native tongue. Each attendant respectfully excused themselves with a bow and split off into the crowds. Their dark regalia clashed amongst the whites and blues of the nobles, drawing quite a few curious and guarded eyes.

 

The sovereign took to the air and hovered over the crowds, artfully avoiding the crystalline chandeliers hanging in even rows, bright magics sparkling within them. Her discerning eyes spared no detail as she searched the room, looking for a familiar face.  _Long tables with food and drink, a section cleared for dancing, and far too many people crammed into one room. This place is enormous and still it feels crowded._

 

In time, she discovered an entire second floor, recessed away to overlook the main hall. Far fewer people milled about there, amidst quiet groups hidden by the thunderous conversation from below. Syndra eyed it curiously as she glided past, absently noting the velvety carpet floor and fancifully-carved wooden walls. Just as she turned to continue on her way, a familiar voice quipped from behind.

 

"Hey! Tall, dark, and powerful over there!"

 

She couldn't help the tiny shiver down her back. The slightest warmth settled in the sovereign's cheeks, embarrassment and delight wrapped together. Syndra paused and quickly collected herself, casting a commanding glare at the speaker.

 

"Dragon," she addressed coolly, her voice raised over the crowd's noise.

 

Clad in her crimson scalemail with only her helmet missing, Shyvana stuck out sorely amongst the soft-clothed nobles. The entire idea seemed oddly appropriate to Syndra, and she fought to keep a grin down. At the warrior's insistent waving, she flew downwards and settled next to the stone guardrail, resting an elbow upon it.

 

"If I had known you were going to be late, I wouldn't have waited up for the buffet table." Shyvana said, shuffling sideways to make room. The red wine glass in her hand swayed, only her practiced grip keeping it from spilling over.

 

"I would not have missed it for anything. I was simply caught up studying."

 

"You? Studying?"

 

"I  _can_  be bothered when it is important enough."

 

"You'll have plenty of  _hands on_  experience tonight." Shyvana's nose scrunched up, prying a finger from her glass to point towards the crowd. A fair many kept their eyes upon the two, some discretely, most not. "I haven't had this many eye-balling me since I lit some noble's dress on fire. I forget who."

 

"A story?" Syndra asked, leaning closer.

 

"You know me and alcohol. Some wise-ass thought it funny to gut punch me and I spat fire  _everywhere_." Snorting into her glass, Shyvana sipped the wine noisily, one eye upon the mage.

 

The color drained from Syndra's face, her glowing eyes sharpened to points.

 

"Jokes on them, though," Shyvana said, rolling her head, a disgusting, bony pop coming from her neck. "I wasn't the one going to a burn ward that night."

 

"Surely they were punished for their offense?"

 

A bark of laughter escaped the dragon. "Oh, no. No, mustn't punish the bright-eyed idiot who 'accidentally' elbowed the half-dragon. Sometimes I hate how good the healers are here."

 

Syndra watched without a word, her fist curled contemplatively under her chin. For all her lover’s bravado and dry humor, the air around her hung with morbid seriousness. She itched in a desire to touch her–to comfort her, if only in some small gesture–but unwanted eyes lingered on them. The sovereign spared a withering, aimless glare at them, mustering all her contempt; a few of the curious onlookers balked and quickly turned away, returning to their conversations.

 

"Hey, Shyvana!" a gruff and distressingly familiar voice called.

 

"Here we go," the dragon rumbled into her glass. She took a sip before standing up with a sigh, nodding to the group of men that approached them.

 

Each of them was clad in armor, adorned in Demacian whites, blues, and golds. There were three of them in total, two of distinctly lighter complexion, but the third man’s hulking stature set him apart. They weaved through the lonesome tables and hushed gatherings, paying no mind to the wilting frowns cast upon them.

 

Syndra sat upon the banister, resting her back against a column of marble as they approached. She watched as Shyvana went to greet them, and the lot of them fell into hushed discussion, wild gestures and boisterous laughter following in their wake.

 

_I cannot tell if she hates or tolerates them,_  the sovereign mused to herself.  _Perhaps both._

 

Despite the apparent ease in which she smiled and conversed with them, tension coiled in Shyvana’s shoulders. Syndra simply observed, feigning interest in the party below. One of the men noticed her watching and gestured, crossing through a small grouping to meet her near the balcony. She sat slightly straighter and smiled thinly, eyes narrowed uninvitingly.

 

"Ho there, fair maiden!" one of the smaller men shouted jovially. In spite of his spiky hair, the shadow of a beard, and his sure-fire smirk, Syndra thought him to be almost spritely looking—the sort of man that might take the first arrow in a skirmish. "What might such beauty be doing here?"

 

The greeting hung in the air with an expectation of response. She didn't bother.

 

"Hah! You cannot give just any lady the LaCroix treatment, Dallen," the rugged, brick wall of a man commented. He grinned at his fellow's abject horror, rubbing his hand upon his chiseled jaw. Stepping forward, he stuck his hand out and offered a handshake. "Garen Crownguard. A pleasure to meet you, madam."

 

_A face to the name,_  Syndra thought, shifting her attention to him. He was a wall of man that carried the look of a well-trained soldier, with shoulders so broad they were almost blocky. While not as tall as Jarvan, he made up for it with the sheer bulk of what could only be muscle. Her eyes twitched toward a frown, pointedly glaring at his outstretched hand and dumb smile.

 

Chortled laughter from Shyvana cut in. "She's Ionian. They don't shake hands there."

 

Garen blinked and awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "Well, how do they greet then?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

 

"We bow," Syndra explained, curtly. "I will spare the boring details."

 

Garen frowned and seemed thoughtfully. "If you say so. Still, Shyvana has told us a lot of good things about you, Lady Syndra."

 

"Has she now?" The sovereign replied, struggling to keep her brow down.

 

"It's not often she speaks highly of a mage, what with her penchant towards ..."

 

A loud, intrusive cough interrupted Garen as Shyvana's foot kicked the back of his leg, causing him to reel back in dismay. "If every spell-slinger in the guard didn't cry when I grabbed them, maybe I'd think better of them," Shyvana defended, taking a sip of her wine.

 

"We have the best mages in Valoran!" Dallen shot back, a stringy lisp to his voice. "What could this fine woman have that they don't?"

 

Shyvana raised her hand, but she remained quiet. Instead, her smoldering eyes dragged sideways, settling upon the Ionian sovereign almost coyly. "Why don't you show them?"

 

Syndra bit her lip, a shiver trickling down her back.  _Oh, that was cheap,_  she thought, glaring half-heartedly at the smug dragon. "I suppose," she said airily, making a show of stretching her fingers. "Who wishes to volunteer?"

 

"Dallen, of course," Shyvana offered up immediately, much to the man's sputtering disagreement.

 

"Now wait a moment," he remarked, straightening up at the accusation, the top of his head barely rising to Garen's shoulder.

 

Syndra frowned as she observed the man, rubbing the jeweled claws on her forefinger and thumb together. "He is rather small. It would be hard to do it convincingly."

 

"What?! I am not!" Dallen shouted, his apprehension evaporating.

 

"If you say," Syndra taunted, her hands resting in her lap. "Charge at me as you would on the battlefield."

 

The men shared curious, if disquieted, looks between each other. Dallen waved it off, however, and stood at the front. "I trust this is safe?" he asked seriously, unclasping his poufy white cuffs.

 

"Perfectly."

 

Dallen rolled his shoulders and stretched in a quick warm up. His hand poised with an imaginary sword, he nodded once in warning before breaking into a dead run, crossing the gap in mere seconds with a practiced sprint. When he came upon the sovereign, too close and too fast to stop without hitting her, a flash of energy crackled across him. The air warped, gripping him as a hand might, and ripped him straight off the floor.

 

Syndra smiled as he went soaring into the air and straight into the main hall, screaming frightfully. Garen and the third man rushed to either side of her, leaning across the banister and watching in shock as she suspended their comrade with her dark magic.

 

"Most mages require a focus, incantation, or other such nonsense to use magic," the sovereign lectured, pulling herself away from the banister and hovering just above them. " _I_  do not. I require only my force of will."

 

With the slightest wave of Syndra’s arm, she sent Dallen hurdling over the balcony, cries of fear and wonder echoing from below. Just as he was about to hit the floor, she stopped him with a gut-wrenching jerk, only to lift him up higher and do it again. She turned to Shyvana and watched as the knowing smirk—the one which vexed and intrigued her—peeled across the dragon's lips.

 

Their moment was cut short however, quickly soured by the sight of a woman storming up the stairs to charge in their direction, cutting her way through the crowd with surprising ease.

 

"What in oblivion is this!? Why is Dallen flying?!" the newcomer slurred through her incredibly thick accent, to Syndra's amusement.

 

"His mouth ran faster than his senses again," Shyvana explained flatly, turning to motion towards Syndra. "To a foreign dignitary, no less."

 

The woman stood angrily in front of the two, a trio of armed escorts poised behind her. "Just bring him down! These antics frighten the guests!"

 

Syndra paused, glancing at the woman curiously. She wore a tightly-fit two-piece suit, with a fine, white gambeson layered atop a pair of suave blue leggings, both of which were adorned with gold trimmings. Yet it was her aura, rather than her clothing, that intrigued the sovereign. She carried herself with a practiced, confident poise that seemed almost elegant, and bore a touch of arrogance in those turquoise eyes to match.

 

"If you would?" Shyvana prompted, catching Syndra’s attention.

 

She raised her hand and hummed in annoyance, curling her clawed fingers and lifting Dallen back onto the second floor. A moment later, she released her magic and unceremoniously dropped the screaming man straight onto Garen's waiting arms, where he laid utterly sick in the face. "Dallen, my fellow—snap out of it," Garen remarked to his companion, barely noticed under the women’s staring contest.

 

Fiora, tight-lipped and arms crossed under her chest, coolly regarded the Ionian. "I must apologize for this offense," she addressed haughtily. “I am Fiora Laurent, matriarch of house Laurent; you must be Lady Syndra, non?"

 

The Ionian stared upon the oddly-accented woman impassively. Of all the Demacians she had met thus far, Fiora was the first to not offer her hand. "I am the Sovereign of Ionia, as I am certain you have heard," she answered, her glowing eyes challenging the unwavering turquoise of her host.

 

"I have," Fiora nodded with a thin smile. With a flick of her wrist, the accompanying escorts bowed in response and departed. "Shyvana here has spoken highly of your skill. I'd wished to see it myself, without all the distractions," she said, waving her hand toward the balcony. "Tea, croissants, and perhaps an afternoon duel—you know."

 

The sovereign's brow arched, equal parts disbelief and amusement. "Perhaps next time."

 

Fiora nodded in agreement, but her response was quickly cut short by a shrill voice echoing from the floor below, drawing their attention.

 

"Introducing His Majesty, the Crown Prince, Sir Jarvan Lightshield the Fourth!"

 

Fiora cried with dismay, pinching her nose with a scowl, her composure vanishing momentarily. "Dammit! He's early." She all but ran toward the stairs, gracefully weaving around the people in her way.

 

"Actually, he's not, but don't listen to me," she muttered into her wine glass. The dragon warrior snorted and inclined her head toward the balcony.

 

"You speak with familiarity," Syndra noted, settling down onto the ground. The cool carpet itched her bare feet, an annoyance she tolerated only to be closer to Shyvana, leaning onto the banister beside her.

 

"She's a true noblewoman of Demacia; if it isn't high class or royalty, it's ignorable." Shyvana pointed with her wine-holding hand tracking Fiora, watching as the sea of people parted at the noblewoman's elegant stampede. "You interest her, but Jarvan commands attention not even she can resist."

 

"I shall settle for being merely offended by her flagrant impudence, then," the sovereign remarked, already bored of the idea. She spied on Shyvana from the corner of her eye, their elbows nearly touching.

 

Slitted eyes flicked toward her, laughter dancing in them. "Please, you were crawling in your skin!"

 

"I did no such thing," Syndra squinted, secretly enjoying how much more lively Shyvana became.

 

"Oh, I'm very certain you are not—ummmcomfortable," The dragon said in a horrid, overly-thick imitation of Fiora's accent which clashed horribly with her growly voice. "I am certain I can make accommodations!

 

Syndra half-caught her laughter in snort, her hand flying over her mouth in a vain effort to stifle the undignified sound. "Spare me," the sovereign choked out, delicately wiping her eyes clear. Far be it for her to lose composure in front of so many strangers, although Shyvana certainly made it difficult. A wistful sigh drew her attention and she glanced over to find Shyvana's curious eye.

 

"I can't ask anyone else this," Shyvana said with an air of trepidation, "but tell me I'm not the only one who thinks Fiora would look better without that face of hers."

 

Syndra stared back, her mind having completely blanked. "I suppose," she trailed off, her expression fighting between incredulity and intrigue.

 

"Think about it—she's got a killer body," Shyvana teased, waving her hands together in a curving motion, "but then that snide, bitchy look ruins it."

 

For the life of her, Syndra couldn't figure out why Shyvana had brought it up. That Fiora all but put herself on display was obvious, the woman wore a tightly fitting leather suit that left nothing to the imagination. At a distance, it might have been pleasing to her eye, if only just. A trickling curiosity, one laced with disconcertion, arose the longer she thought about it. "Why do you care?"

 

"Ah, you know," Shyvana said, aimlessly waving her free hand.

 

"No, I do not. Are you saying she is better than me?"

 

"By my bloody honor—no, Syndra! I didn't mean that at all!" The dragon backpedaled, her golden eyes wide with shock as she stood up straight as if she had been struck.

 

Syndra found herself even more confused by the response. "What driveling nonsense are you talking about, then?"

 

In the short pause between them, Shyvana fidgeted. She took a quick swig of her wine, guzzling it down as one would a tankard of ale. "I just wanted to know what kind of women you like,” she stammered out.

 

The situation's escalating absurdity almost made Syndra laugh. Were it not for Shyvana's frightful glancing, she may have well lost her composure entirely. "A difficult question," she intoned, curling a fist under her chin. "I believe short women, blessed by dragon's blood and with a … what was it, a 'killer body'? Yes, I like those quite a lot. I have one, in fact."

 

Shyvana groaned, rubbing at her face. One golden eye peeked between her fingers, a curious swirl of embarrassment, adoration, and exasperation. "Thanks."

 

"You still have not answered my question."

 

"What? You've never looked at someone good-looking and wondered?"

 

"There was never a reason to. I already knew how dull they were, however elegantly they dressed. Why bother?" Syndra asked, leaning forward slightly to leer. "No one was worthy. And now, my eyes can only see one particular dragon."

 

Shyvana coughed nervously, magmatic lines raced across her face in a draconian blush, leaving the woman almost glowing red. "Me and my mouth," she grumbled, raising her drink, but finding the glass empty. "I need more wine."

 

"And I need to speak with Jarvan," Syndra said, seizing on the opportunity.

 

"Alright. I'll come save you both from the razorbeaks in a minute."

 

 There was a flippant familiarity to her tone that gave Syndra pause. "The what?"

 

"You'll see. Have fun," Shyvana said with a laugh, whisking herself away.

 

Syndra squinted at the retreating woman and drew her jeweled fingertips across one another, a spark of magic dancing between them. She shaped it to a point on her finger, and with a flick, shot the nigh invisible spark toward the dragon and popped it against Shyvana's rear, causing her to jump.

 

Hiding her grin behind a hand, Syndra turned away from Shyvana's accusing glare, all too pleased with herself. What good humor she had, though, bled away at the sight of the ballroom. She cast a wary eye below, noticing how different the flow was. The people gravitated toward Jarvan, some overtly, most not.  _I am already tired of this._

 

*~*

 

Though it began in the twilight hours of the day, the party dragged on far longer than Syndra expected. Without the dragon, her conversations proved idle and only marginally useful, and she soon grew tired of them, vacating to the outside balcony. As she left the dull roar of the ballroom behind, she found herself looking out over the open courtyards that stretched across the palatial grounds, relieved to find she could finally hear her own breathing again in the cold evening air.

 

_Eugh. My head is pounding,_  she groused, balancing a plate of desserts on one hand as the other rubbed at her temple. A few honey-butter rolls remained, glistening temptingly under the brass lanterns. She had long since adjusted to the sickeningly sweet flavor of honey and bread, but found her mouthwatering all the same, plucking another from the plate and helping herself to it against her better judgement.

 

_I had not expected to find out so little at this party,_  she considered, sitting down neatly on the frigid guardrail, dangling her feet off the edge. Demacians were too stiff-lipped and wholly unwelcoming of questions, neither of which surprised her. What information they did reveal was often fragmented; names, titles, snippets of history - little things, imperfect when alone. Try as she might, her own conversations yielded nothing of use, save old war stories and slander about Noxus, though she did take some enjoyment in discussing their favorite victories over them.

 

_What a waste of time. Perhaps I should see if my advisors might actually know something,_  she mused, eying the star-filled sky.  _One of them should have some familiarity with this land. I could combine that with my notes and—_

 

A loud bang from the balcony's glass door jostled Syndra from her thoughts, startling her into sitting straighter. She peered over her shoulder, her glowing eye narrowed contemptuously, yet to her surprise, she found Fiora strolled alongside Jarvan instead, shrieking with laughter. Syndra barely suppressed a shudder.

 

"There is our esteemed guest!" the hostess said, her eyes settling on the sovereign. She beamed a smile that stretched entirely too wide and shut the door behind Jarvan.

 

"Ah, enjoying the fine evening as well, Lady Syndra?" the prince asked, the jovial air of his words overcoming his usual stiffness.

 

Syndra gave a half nod and waved, causing her plate to float away. "Well enough, apart from all the crowding. I am not used to this many people in such a small room.

 

"Small?" Fiora echoed with some amusement. "There is room enough for dozens of families, no?"

 

"You have more than simply dozens in there. I do not know how you Demacians can tolerate standing around, let alone dancing with so many pushed together," Syndra remarked, her hands making a squeezing motion.

 

"Truly? Well, I admit that I do not know how Ionians prefer to dance." Jarvan chuckled as he strode to the balcony rail, Fiora in tow beside him. They settled near Syndra, the prince leaning onto the rail as Fiora stood proudly beside him.

 

"I could bore you to tears with the details if you would like," the Ionian intoned dryly, rousing another chuckle from the man. From the red tinge of his face, she would wager he had finished quite a few drinks already.

 

"Perhaps a demonstration, then?" Fiora interjected, all smiles, oblivious to Syndra's internal cringe.

 

"I would need my attendants." She frowned at what choice of word to use. "Ionian dancing is more of a performance which relies on intricacy and careful positioning. Not twirling in circles on a floor in poufy gowns."

 

"I am not one for dancing myself. These legs of mine are a bit too long," Jarvan remarked.

 

"Non-non, you're perfectly capable, my prince."

 

"I remember a few stubbed toes that said otherwise."

 

"Certainly none of mine?" Fiora suggested, smiling far too sweetly for Syndra’s tastes.

 

"No, you're quite quick on your feet, Lady Fiora."

 

Syndra had no idea what the swift side-glances toward her or the pointed looks passing between Fiora and Jarvan meant. Waving her hand, she pulled her now-chilled bread plate back and took a bite out of the last piece left. The simple act drew the Demacians toward her, their eyes peeled on the floating plate in surprise.

 

"Forgive my curiosity, but how is it you do that, exactly?" Fiora asked, watching as the plate went floating away again.

 

"I need only think and it happens."

 

"But, I did not think this was how magic worked."

 

"Few can hope to dream of approaching what I can do." Try as she might, Syndra couldn't quite help but smirk; the perplexity from Jarvan and Fiora was utterly delectable—a simpleton's understanding of her power.

 

"Hmmph. All that magic just to make a plate float?" Fiora said haughtily, one brow curved in disbelief.

 

In an instant, Syndra's smug enjoyment turned to annoyance.

 

"The Sovereign's talents certainly amount to more than that," Jarvan cut in as the two women began glaring. "I've found Shyvana's claims of your duels to be quite intriguing."

 

"As have I," Fiora added "She rarely speaks well of one not entirely clad in armor. Tell me, how is it you two became acquainted?"

 

Despite the ease with which she spoke and gesticulated with her hand, Fiora's question left Syndra on edge. Both Demacians peered at her through piercing stares, even in spite of Jarvan's efforts to hide it. "I had heard rumors of a dragon," she said haughtily. "It was not difficult finding her when I looked."

 

"But, why seek  _her?_ " Fiora waved her hand again. "You are not a—what are they called—dragon slayer?"

 

Syndra's eye twitched as much as Jarvan's did at the name.

 

"I am astounded something so brutishly uncivilized is a popular idea," she bit out with a pointed glare of her own. "No. I had need of a sparring partner worthy of me. She has proven that much and more."

 

The Prince of Demacia hummed curiously, standing up straighter. "Perhaps I am presumptuous, Lady Syndra, but aren't there any worthy sparring partners in Ionia?"

 

"As a river crashes from a mountain into the forest, Prince Jarvan." She blinked at their blank looks. "No, there are not. The few I could name are better left off dead than spoken to over tea."

 

Fiora gave a knowing nod at the idea. "Ahh, yes. I can name a few myself. This is so romantic! A fetching woman from a foreign land, drawn by the need to impress her skill on our very own dragon. Don't you think so, my prince?"

 

The hairs on Syndra's neck prickled at the word 'romantic'.  _What does she mean? How does that possibly relate to love at all?_  she wondered with a dreadful sense of trepidation. A noise flitted past and she realized that her sudden worry blanked out whatever Jarvan had just said.

 

"What is that word you used? 'Romantic'?" Syndra asked Fiora, feigning ignorance.

 

"Oh! Like a story, that is all."

 

From such a simple answer, Syndra couldn't discern if Fiora was being coy or truthful.

 

A bang on the glass door drew their attention, their three heads turning toward a shy-looking maid who peeked out to see them.

 

"E-excuse me, Lady Fiora? Lord Donovito wishes to speak with you," the servant conveyed, eliciting one of the angry twitches which Fiora seemed so predisposed to.

 

"Of course, of course. I will be inside in a minute." She twirled toward Jarvan and beamed a smile as the maid disappeared. "Shall we return, my prince?"

 

Chuckling to himself, Jarvan patted his belly. "I will shortly. The buffet tonight was exquisite, perhaps a little too much."

 

"Ah, the chefs will love to hear this." Fiora nodded, excusing herself with a polite curtsy.

 

Syndra watched the noblewoman disappear behind the door and found the atmosphere infinitely more tolerable. Yet, when she glanced toward Jarvan, she found that the boyish charm of a man in his prime had vanished completely. In some ways, it reminded her of those who fought in the war, of soldiers burdened by terrible things.

 

She couldn't help but marvel at the staggering differences the Prince of Demacia had to entertain.

 

"You appear ill at ease," the sovereign intoned lightly.

 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut for a moment. "I loathe to discuss matters of Shyvana with others in the nobility."

 

"Would it be because it is always on  _what_  she is, not whom?"

 

Jarvan's eyes shot open, a flicker of surprise in them. "Is it that obvious?"

 

"To one whose ears work. Even in the brief moments in the ballroom, I could hear whispers about her. Tiny, pointed daggers too cowardly to have a face."

 

He chuckled again, but there was no humor in it. "It's not often she speaks well of anyone–or anything, for that matter. Shyvana’s praise has drawn the ears of quite a few, friend and foe alike, Fiora amongst them."

 

"I should feel embarrassed that she speaks so highly of me," Syndra observed, drawing a snort from Jarvan.

 

"You are not a woman for that, I'd think."

 

"You presume to know me so well?"

 

"Well enough to see how Fiora's forthright questioning could be irritating," the prince stated flatly, casting his gaze out into night and staring at the twinkling lights of Demacia.

 

Syndra let out a sharp 'ha!' and smirked. "That is unkind to say of her, is it not?"

 

"I speak no ill; Fiora is a good friend, she merely weighs upon one's sensibilities–heavily."

 

The dramatic pause stirred a laugh from her, and Jarvan followed shortly afterwards, chuckling politely as he sipped what was left of his sparkling wine. In the amiable silence that followed, Jarvan turned from the sight of Demacia, squaring his attention upon the sovereign completely.

 

"I've a request of you—not as the prince, but as Shyvana's friend."

 

Syndra straightened herself properly, her glowing eyes narrowed in anticipation. "I would listen, much as the same."

 

"Tell me—what is she to you?"

 

For a moment, she sat there, mulling over what to say; not even he was worthy of the whole truth.

 

"A friend from an unlikely place," Syndra answered tersely. She thought it enough, but his expectant stare irritated her. "What I said to Fiora is true as well; I came seeking a challenge and found it. Shyvana has turned out to be more than I expected."

 

"She has that way with people. When we first arrived back in Demacia, in fact, I think she may have been bigger news than me."

 

"I do not know of this story," Syndra remarked, trying not to sound too interested.

 

"Truly? Ah, it was a spectacle. I'd been out in the wilds for some years when I first met her. When she accompanied me on my return to Demacia, I thought riots would break out."

 

"Should not the people celebrate their prince's return?"

 

"They all thought I was going to marry her."

 

His deadpan tone made it difficult for Syndra not to burst out in laughter, but her mirth vanished as the grim implications settled in her mind. "You are serious?" she asked.

 

"You don't have royal succession in Ionia?" Jarvan asked, a brow raised dubiously.

 

"Ours is a succession of ideas. A great leader can be replaced only by a person of great capabilities, not by some child who shares their blood."

 

"If only such a thing worked here," he remarked with a wistful tone. "Thankfully, it all settled quickly when Shyvana and I dispersed the rumors. That was when the  _other_  problems started."

 

"The people saw what she was and grew frightful,” Syndra interjected. “Not enough to challenge their beloved prince, but the whispers started."

 

Jarvan's flicker of recognition was all the confirmation she needed.

 

"Are there not those who scorn her—who call her unclean, dangerous, or something to be … slain for the challenge? I am not the Sovereign of Ionia through birthright, Jarvan. Many have scorned me for what I am, much like Shyvana. We both fight to protect our homeland, despite its people's willingness to run a knife through our backs the instant they could."

 

Syndra didn't bother to hide her bitter, hateful smile.

 

The silence hung between them as Jarvan frowned and nodded slowly, trailing his gaze to the horizon once more. He lifted his wine glass to sip, but found it starkly empty, setting it upon the stone again with a soft clink. His shoulders sagged for a moment as if wearied by a troubled thoughtfulness, before he straightened up once more to address her.

 

"Thank you, Sovereign," he said, turning toward her with a reserved smile. "You've allayed some old fears and made me realize some others are not as unfounded as I believed."

 

Syndra's eyes snapped to Jarvan, her head turning slowly. Their eyes locked together, and in that moment she scrutinized his blue depths, feeling him to be truthful. Perhaps not in whole, but nearly enough, and as close as he could get.

 

"Well then," he said, returning his gaze to the empty glass in his hand, "I believe I could use another drink. It has been a pleasure spending the evening in your company, Lady Syndra."

 

"Of course, Prince Jarvan," she answered. "Only worthy people may find themselves in my presence for long."

 

The Prince departed, and she returned her attention to the courtyard below, listening to the heavy-set thuds of his boots as they were swallowed up by the dull roar of the ballroom. The quiet of the balcony returned at last, leaving nothing to be heard but her own breathing and the distant, sleepy wind.

 

_Shyvana is not going to be happy._

 

For all her speculation and worries, Syndra had found the most direct route to solving their dilemma. She had no idea what would happen with Jarvan now, or if their conversation had even began to cover the real problems. If he spoke with Shyvana at all, the dragon might very well boil over.

 

On the other hand, if it worked, it would be unfathomably easier to help secure her lover's home.

 

Syndra squinted, her glowing eyes flickering with turbulent magic.

 

_I will_ make _this work._

 

Anxiety nagged at Syndra’s mind, whispering promises of ill-fated intent over what she had done, a voice that troubled her the longer she entertained it. The ballroom door opened and a familiar voice interrupted her aimless musing, drawing her from her thoughts.

 

"Hey, why are you hiding out here?" Shyvana growled teasingly.

 

"Is it hiding to simply remove myself from all that noise?"

 

A wave of heat washed over as Shyvana approached and came up alongside her, and she quickly became aware of just how numb the cold evening air had left her, the tingling of pins and needles still lingering in her arms and legs. With no sense of subtlety, she scooted over closer to Shyvana, basking in the woman's heat.

 

"What are you doing?" the dragon asked amusedly.

 

"It is much colder here than Ionia. Shouldn't a courteous host provide warmth for her guest?"

 

Shyvana chortled, but stayed where she was all the same, tapping her gloved fingers distractedly against the stone railing.

 

Smirking secretively, the sovereign reached out with her magic and plucked up the end of her long, pink shawl, slowly lifting it towards her companion. She teased the fabric across the back of Shyvana’s neck, taking care to keep its threads just a hair’s breadth away from her dark blue skin. Then, as the dragon began to twitch irritably, she quickly snatched the cloth away—just as a gloved hand slapped at the spot where it had been.

 

"Damn mosquitoes," Shyvana grumbled, inspecting her hand. "They stick like honey to me when it's this cold."

 

The sovereign bit her lip to keep from snickering, wriggling the shawl and teasing it closer. In a flash, Shyvana's hand shot up again, snatching up its tail. She snapped her head and glowered back toward her antagonist, bewilderment creeping across her face.

 

"And so do you, apparently," she remarked dryly.

 

Syndra laughed, her shoulders shaking as she covered her mouth with her hand. An indignant huff of hot air blew into her face and she frowned at the dragon. "You are much too tense for this  _fine_  evening."

 

"I hate parties."

 

"Ionian ones are much better," Syndra said agreeingly. "Less people and much more space."

 

"And no one asking me to do fire shots."

 

Syndra blinked. "To do what?"

 

Shyvana sighed with an exasperation born from some great burden, a frustrated noise that Syndra knew quite well from having to explain herself again and again. "I spit flame into some alcohol and swallow it back down. You know, the whole flash of fire out of my mouth."

 

"Isn't that uncomfortable?"

 

"Everyone just nags and nags wanting to see it for themselves ..."

 

Sensing the dreary path they were about to visit, Syndra straightened herself up and seized the gap in the conversation with a commanding tone. "This night has dragged on  _far_  too long, don’t you think? I will need to find my attendants. Perhaps you might escort me to my room afterwards?" she suggested, brushing off her sleeves of imaginary dust while Shyvana looked on.

 

A strange, inscrutable look wormed its way across Shyvana's face, equal parts confusion and bewilderment. As she heard Syndra's request, however, it was banished by a knowing smirk.

 

"I suppose I should oblige," the dragon said with a faux-annoyed sigh. "Come along then, I'll wait by the entrance."

 

"Good," Syndra said, entirely pleased with herself. She glided alongside the warrior, the two of them heading toward the ballroom. "I am told Demacian prefer beds with soft pillows and covers. I will need something  _harder_  than that."

 

Shyvana nearly tripped over the words.

 

*~*

 

"Quit squirming, my room is right here," Shyvana growled, her hand kept firmly over the Ionian on her shoulder while she jiggled the annoyingly stubborn handle to her room. She smirked as the door clicked behind them with an air of finality, her armored boots echoing across the stone floor. “You won’t escape  _this_  time.”

 

"W-wait," Syndra hissed and slapped the dragon's plate-scale armor. "What are you doing?!"

 

Each step jostled the rigid plates underneath her, pressing the cold bite of unrelenting armor into her gut. She paid it no mind, far too busy smiling to herself. Weeks of frustrations swam through her head, their nearing end making her rump squirm in Shyvana's hand. She snuck a glance ahead, spying a spacious bed raised up from the floor with a fully-fluffed mattress. "Ooh," she whispered, perhaps a bit too loudly. “So  _that_  is what I've been waiting for."

 

"Yes, that's a bed," Shyvana remarked dryly. " _You_  get to watch from it. I need to take this armor off. Up you go!"

 

With a firm slap to her butt, the sovereign was hurled into the air, a shrill giggle escaping her. Twirling head over heels through the air, a surge of her magic stopped her upright, hovering near the ceiling. She patted her sleeves, wrapping her loose sash back around her arms, and gave a coy look downward. "I've hardly the mind to ... what are you looking at?"

 

"A really great view," Shyvana said with a wink and wide smile.

 

Brows knitting together, Syndra followed the dragon's gaze underneath the bottom of her dress. From the angle, her pantyless bottom was on complete display. Shyvana's brows wiggled and Syndra met them with a roll of her eyes. Easing her magic, she floated swiftly downward, coming to a rest atop the bed and sitting neatly with her legs closed together.

 

"No free looks," she declared, earning a groan of disappointment.

 

"Sure, make me work after I've been busy all day," Shyvana griped, stepping past the bed. At the other end of the room, near a set of glass doors to a balcony, stood a small armory. Two racks lined the wall holding the matching pair of Dragon's Head gauntlets, set above a group of leather straps and mixed tools scattered on a nearby bench.

 

Syndra sat up a little more, watching as the heavy armor came undone, transfixed by how deftly Shyvana handled every latch and strap. The crimson platemail cracked open at its golden seams, peeling away from the black, featureless undershirt that clung to her bulky chest. The tension of her tight muscles and fine curves stood out as Shyvana set her armor down, a beckoning sight that made Syndra's legs clench together a little tighter. It wasn't too dissimilar from how complex her own dress was, a realization which made her cheeks warm.

 

"So, tell me, Dragon, are all Demacian parties so lively?" the sovereign asked, idly clicking her fingers together.

 

"Heh, hardly. That was small for Fiora. Grand balls are hosted in a House's wing, while the royal family has theirs within the palace proper." Shyvana scratched her chin thoughtfully, claws chipping at the scales. "Those can number in the thousands."

 

The mere thought actually made Syndra go cross-eyed. "I have no idea how you tolerate them."

 

"Tell me you want to spend this night talking about courts and I'll send you back to  _your_  room." Shyvana's golden eyes peeled over her shoulder, narrowed dangerously.

 

The mage rolled her eyes at the threat, giving a coy smile. With the smallest ounce of concentration, she floated up from the bed and came to a stop alongside Shyvana, earning a surprised look as she snuck up alongside her. Her hand reached out, idly grabbing at the dragon's toned arms and squeezing softly, inspecting their firmness. "Hmm, at least you have not gone too soft in these last few weeks."

 

Shyvana snorted and turned around in a wordless challenge, raising her arms and flexing them above her head. Skin and scales contorted in a taut, powerful display that Syndra couldn't help but grope at.

 

“Soft?” she sneered. “Go on, then. Try to pinch even a little."

 

"I'd rather not break my jewelry," Syndra returned dryly, picking at Shyvana's scales with her fingertips. "But you are quite tense, hmm?"

 

The red-headed Demacian blinked as the very air shimmered and warped, eyes widening as a dozen tiny spheres formed around her limbs and crackled with intent, ensnaring her wrists and ankles.

 

"What the hells is this?" Shyvana demanded, tugging at the bonds.

 

“Sit back and  _relax_ ,” Syndra teased, allowing the word to linger as she hovered beside her captive and spread her lips into a thin, ominous smile. Turning around in the air, she glided away from the armory, Shyvana bound in tow. Her eyes roamed from the bed to the large, oaken table at its end, and she effortlessly sat the dragon upon its back edge with her legs laid out across its center, arms suspended above her in the air.

 

The sovereign circled the table a few times, eying the dragon, her jeweled fingertips skimming along its wood surface. Her chest clenched at the sight, stirring indecent ideas and half-remembered fantasies in her mind; flickers of their first few nights of passion-fueled exploration together, resurfacing the longer her gaze settled on Shyvana's exposed belly. Her stomach was lined with hard scale and tough skin, yet supple and delicate in hidden places—secrets she'd hardly learned the first time around.  _I spent days planning what I would do to her, and now I cannot decide where to start._

 

"I would've laid on the bed if you’d asked," Shyvana intoned, a brow curled up.

 

“Where would the fun be in that? You have worked  _so hard_  today, after all,” Syndra crooned, squeezing herself up against Shyvana’s back and laying her head on the dragon's shoulder. The corners of their eyes met and she couldn't help but grin as her fingertips slid around the woman's belly, sneaking up to the undersides of her supple breasts. Inching her hands up a little higher, she grasped Shyvana's pert bosom eagerly, drawing a sharp hiss out. She leaned in closer, her lips nearly on the dragon's ridged ear.

 

"Mmm, now here is something I have missed."

 

"What, groping me?"

 

Purple lipstick-covered lips peeled into a smile and her hot breath whispered into her scaled ear. "Having my big, strong Shy-vana here in my arms."

 

Syndra's sweet words wrung small, eager tremors from the dragon, and she pleasantly noted how stiff Shyvana's tiny bumps became. She smirked deviously to herself and dragged the tips of her dull claws around the hidden nubs, teasing them even harder. The warrior squirmed in her hold, jutting her chest forward.

 

"Come on," Shyvana groaned.

 

Ignoring the grumbling plea, the Ionian stood up and reached for the redhead's hair. Twin locks of the dark crimson hair trailed down, neatly tied on either side of her face; the rest roamed free, an unruly mess that Syndra had to finger-comb into some semblance of order. "I should have brought a brush," she muttered under her breath, gathering strand after strand into one hand. A shuddering moan, one so low she almost missed it, made her pause.

 

"Oh?" Syndra hummed curiously, dropping the hair. Shyvana had gone still, looking straight ahead. Peering down at the redhead, she sunk her fingers into the thicket; the warm, scale-free skin of the dragon's scalp met her hands, a curious contrast she’d never noticed before. "Do you like  _this?_ " Syndra asked the relaxing woman, beginning her massage. Her jeweled claws helped give a nice, gentle scratch with every motion, and in mere minutes she reduced the dragon to a cuddly mess.

 

"Ehm, uhh," Shyvana gaped, an unintelligible purr of satisfaction escaping her lips.

 

Perhaps giggling wasn't the most reassuring response, but Syndra couldn't contain herself.

 

"Where did you learn to do  _this_?" the Demacian asked, stretching in her bonds with a wiggle.

 

The question made Syndra blink. Satisfaction welled in her heart, a pleasant thrum at having so elegantly captivated her lover.  _It is not so different from arranging penjing,_  she mused, deciding not to comment about it. "I know a thing or two with my hands."

 

"Oh? Something my cute maiden hasn't shown me yet?" An uproarious laughter erupted out of Shyvana, surprising her masseuse.

 

The sovereign's cheeks warmed with a blush and she pulled her hands away. "I did not mean it like  _that_!" The refusal only brought out a louder guffaw. "Stop laughing!" she demanded, shaking the woman's shoulders.

 

"W-wait, Syndra!" Shyvana choked out. Suppressing her giggles, she craned her neck backwards, letting her long hair trail towards the floor.

 

Suspended as she was, Shyvana sat completely relaxed, waiting with slitted eyes. And yet, something about her lover's posture struck a chord; for all her ferocity, the constant sense of 'predator' was gone.  _She's ... cute._  Her heart clenched with excitement, and all too suddenly, a need to kiss the dragon consumed her.

 

"Would you rub my shoulders, too?" Shyvana asked, interrupting her thoughts.

 

"I suppose I could," Syndra remarked haughtily, pushing the woman's head up and cradling it in her bosom. She rolled her eyes at the encouraging coo that followed with a small, wistful smile, and took hold of Shyvana's shoulders. There was a certain order to giving a proper massage; she tried to recall the steps involved, imagining each in her mind’s eye.  _Palms on the top, thumbs behind, fingers over ... like this. Press in with the thumbs, roll to palms, and squeeze with fingers._  That was what her mother said once when she sprained an ankle, at least.

 

"There. How is this?"

 

"Tiny bit away from the neck and a lot harder."

 

"This?"

 

"A little harder."

 

Her dark, gray brow curled up.  _If this was anyone else I might be strangling them,_  Syndra mused. The angle felt right to her, and she was keenly mindful of her jewelry, allowing her palms to pick up every little scale and muscular twitch.

 

"Oh yeah, right there," Shyvana purred, rolling her head from side to side.

 

"Are you simply tense or—"

 

A sickening pop came out of the dragon's neck, vibrating straight into Syndra's hands.

 

"Tense, then," she noted, absently finding Shyvana's neck a little softer.

 

"This last week was awful," Shyvana sighed, leaning back into Syndra's chest. "We went marching after a Noxian war band that didn't exist. Quinn's supposed to be checking in on the scouts who made the report, but I have no idea what came of it. She doesn't like it when some idiot jumps on rumors just to chase a cheap promotion."

 

"You know this Quinn?" Syndra inquired, ears prickling at the odd name again.

 

"'Demacia's Wings'," Shyvana quoted with her bound hands, rolling her eyes. "She’s one of the best scouts this side of Valoran, if you get over the smell of  _bird_. Common-born too—that really pisses off the nobles, even more when she's giving puppy eyes to Jarvan."

 

The mere thought made Syndra pause. "Why would she kill dogs for him?"

 

"What? She isn't!"

 

"Then why give him puppy eyes?"

 

Hissing laughter escaped from the dragon. "She wants in his bed like how I want you in mine."

 

"I ... oh."

 

Setting the idea away for later, Syndra nodded and kept messaging her chuckling lover. A comfortable silence descended between them, different in its own way—neither heated passion nor coy play, but a simple act of trust. Though her hands were starting to cramp, she smiled all the same. The gentle coos and moans were rewarding enough to tolerate the discomfort, and she took pride in knowing that she took away the dragon's stress.

 

"Treat me like this and you can tie me up any time," Shyvana remarked with a pleased, throaty moan, stretching her limbs with a leisurely sigh.

 

The opportunity was too good for Syndra to pass up. She set her chin down atop Shyvana's head, the faint smell of dried sweat and stale shampoo tickling her nose. "Hm? Does my little dragon like being tied down?"

 

"Little?" Shyvana echoed with mock offence.

 

"Perhaps not  _too_  little," Syndra mused with a little giddiness, her fingers venturing down the dragon’s powerful shoulders to rest on Shyvana’s firm biceps. She gave an approving hum before dragging her fingertips underneath the woman’s pert, clothed breasts, cupping them in her hands. “Certainly not here,” she said, greedy squeezes punctuating her words. She smiled as her lover's chest jutted forward at the touch, trying to offer up more of itself despite her vexed look. "Good girls," she cooed, teasing the tips of Shyvana's nipples with her fingers. "My delightful favorites."

 

“Are they really?” she whispered quietly.

 

The question made her pause and stare at Shyvana from the corner of her eye. "I will admit to thinking about them a bit too much, but nothing more."

 

Shyvana blew a raspberry and rolled her eyes, a tiny smile hiding away in spite of her flippancy. Her stern face slipped into one of shock as, unaware of Syndra's sneaking hand, jeweled claws edged their way between her legs.

 

A tense squirm wormed its way out of her lover, a telltale sign that Syndra recognized all too well. Her eyes flicked to the dragon's knees and she grinned at how they clenched together, trying to keep her hand out. It was inconsequential to her plans, but still, she found the woman’s sudden shyness amusing.

 

" _Now_  you are blushing,  _Shy_ vana?"

 

"By my fury," the dragon groaned, her head falling over backwards. "Do  _not_  use that stupid jo—OKE!"

 

Through the bindings of her dark spheres, Syndra slowly pried open Shyvana's legs. She smirked at the accusing glare that passed her way, ignoring it in favor of her newest treat. Although Shyvana still had her plate-scale greaves on, they only covered the outsides of her legs. The black undergarments, however, were helplessly open to Syndra's roaming hands.

 

_It is warm down there,_  Syndra marveled, brows inching upward as she slid her hand between Shyvana's inner thighs. As a dragon, Shyvana always radiated a certain warmth, but this was a step above. The angle and her armor made it awkward, though she certainly enjoyed the desperate tugs at her bindings.

 

A frustrated growl, low but entirely audible, tickled her ear as Shyvana muttered something unintelligible.

 

"Relax," Syndra whispered into the dragon's ears, her jeweled fingers raking at her pants. "Do you not want your  _massage_?"

 

"I will get you for this," Shyvana grumbled, rolling her hips to the motion of Syndra's hand. A hard squeeze to her breast stole a gasp and brought her to a sputtering halt.

 

"Will you now?" the sovereign taunted, gripping and pulling her closer. Shyvana's sharp hiss tickled her ear, the murmurs of a suppressed moan escaping past her lips. She reached lower, her whole hand coming to cup the dragon's mons in a slow, deliberate stroke, appreciative of how damp and warm the spot had become.

 

"Blood and thunder, when did you become such a  _tease_?" Shyvana swore, hips squirming in half-hearted attempts to grind against her hand. "The sweet virgin act was a trap for me, wasn't it?"

 

Face alight with a blush, Syndra pursed her lips and glared playfully at her lover. "I have had to wait weeks," she stated, leaning in until the edges of her helm pressed against Shyvana's face, surprising her. "Not a single thing could satisfy that insufferable itch. You have more than enough to make up for!"

 

"Let me down then," Shyvana requested with a purr, brows arched upward. Her sultry efforts turned to confusion when Syndra pulled away with a light laugh.

 

"Mmm ... no," Syndra remarked, curling her fingers and pressing them into the wet fabric, jolting the dragon into a pleasured arch. The padded fabric gave way slightly, hinting at the welcoming embrace it guarded. Every fiber in Shyvana's body clenched and relaxed in Syndra’s hold, an unsung song of playful torment. She couldn't help pushing further, caressing just enough to leave the dragon a panting, writhing mess in her arms.

 

"Ohh, that's so–unf, Syndra!" Shyvana panted, her growling moan reverberating in Syndra's chest. Her head craned sideways, falling upon Syndra's shoulder, exposing her neck. A gasp escaped as a pair of warm, wetted lips sank upon her sensitive, pulsing spot.

 

Giddy at the opportunity, Syndra suckled on the scaly skin, rubbing her hand faster, encouragingly. Sweat, and the odd-but-familiar skin of her lover, greeted her tongue, and in one long, sensual lick, she left the dragon trembling in her arms.

 

"How much more can you take, hm?" she whispered into Shyvana's ear, grinding one finger upon the crown of her mons. A trembling buck of hips followed, strung along by every little pointed stroke she made.

 

With a half-formed plan, Syndra's other hand slid across Shyvana's belly on its way downward, stopping to steal a tantalizing squeeze of her toned abs. "Ugh, what I would do for a stomach like this," she grumbled under her breath.

 

"I know a great workout you can do," the redhead whispered back, tugging her bound arms again.

 

Ears perking, Syndra tilted her head and turned her gaze towards the heated pair of eyes watching her. The sheer intensity, a palpable heaviness thickening the air between them, caused the very hairs of her neck to stand on end, her fair skin shivering.

 

Pulling herself away, Syndra fell over in the air. There she hovered sideways, laying alongside Shyvana, head propped up on her hand. Here, she had a grander view of the dragon, distinctly showing off her handiwork in how flushed the woman's indigo skin was. With her free hand, she covered her mouth, trying to disguise the smug smile she knew was there.

 

"And what idea might you have, my little dragon?" the sovereign asked airily, sliding her same free hand across Shyvana's armored thigh. She rubbed her hand along the inner side and teased with one long, pointed finger at the wet spot.

 

"My woman seems to think she can get away with teasing me in my own home, so I'll start with getting off this table and throwing you onto that bed behind me. Then, once I've had my way with that pretty mouth of yours, maybe I'll rip those clothes to pieces,” she said, flashing a predatory grin. Her fingers rolled at the words, clawing at invisible threads in the air.

 

"Isn't that daring?" Syndra said with mock surprise, her hand moving to cover her mouth. Her expression held for a moment before it slipped into an arrogant smirk. "Bold words for someone in your position, don't you think?"

 

Eyes ablaze, and fire almost literally spitting from her lips, Shyvana wrenched one of her arms free. The magical bonds shattered like glass, the shards and broken spheres evaporating into the air.

 

Syndra's smirk froze, slowly slipping away as dumb shock took over. "Wait, how did you—"

 

With another wrench, the remaining bonds burst, leaving both hands free. Shyvana lunged at the mage, her feet tearing themselves loose as every inch of muscular dragon hurtled forward, wrapping herself around the sovereign. They tumbled across the floor, the warrior taking the brunt of the fall, rolling and lifting them both up in one jarring motion.

 

Her head swirling, Syndra blinked and sputtered, trying to find her bearings. A throaty chuckle drew her attention, her wobbled eyes centering on a smirking Shyvana.

 

"Mages are always so high and mighty," Shyvana remarked, a toothy grin spread across her face. Leaning in closer, her golden eyes soon flooded Syndra's vision as their noses touched. "But give them a good grab and they squeal like girls."

 

"I do not squeal!" Syndra defended, struggling to free herself.  _I am taller than her, why is she not moving?!_  It should have been simple to topple the woman, yet nothing made her incredible grip budge an inch.

 

"I'll take that bet."

 

Syndra could barely process the sultry remark before she went hurtling into the air. A shrill squeal escaped as she tumbled over, thrown onto the dragon's enormous bed like a sack. Cushioned bedding and sheets snuggly enveloped her with a gracefully soft landing. She blinked, surprised at how fluffy the bed was compared to her own, but her momentary distraction let the warrior close in upon her.

 

Shyvana towered over her, staring back down in the candlelight and possessed of all the might and fury of a conqueror. The palpable intent radiating from her lover’s proud posture stirred a heat in her belly she couldn't ignore. "Oooh," the sovereign purred, drawing the jeweled claw on her finger across her lip. “Have mercy on this fair maiden, dragon."

 

"Mercy?" Shyvana echoed, leaning onto the bed.

 

In that split moment, Syndra caught a predatory glint. Inching back across the mattress, the dragon pursued after her, shifting from side to side, arms and knees surrounding her as Shyvana climbed on top. The bedroom's candlelight glowed behind Shyvana, accenting the shadow she cast, and her fierce eyes standing as twin beacons in the darkness.

 

"You come into  _my_  lair wearing that tight-fitting dress?" she growled, the air smoldering around her, crimson specks dancing beneath the dragon's scaled skin.

 

"You dare to tempt me ..."

 

Two elbows landed beside Syndra's head, right next to her helm's wings. Her breath shortened, cheeks stained red from warmth that was as much hers as Shyvana’s. The dragon's untamed crimson hair fell around them, accenting her gloating grin.

 

"And you expect mercy?"

 

As the dragon leaned closer, thrilling anticipation stilled Syndra. Their lips met in a fleeting, gentle caress that sent a shiver down her back and stirred an excited beat in her heart.

 

" _Never_ ," Shyvana whispered breathily, her mouth hungrily seeking out Syndra's own.

 

Squirming under the weight of her lover's presence, Syndra grabbed at Shyvana's thighs to pull her closer, the bed sinking with a heavy creak. The heat of the dragon's embrace felt smothering, yet she had little desire to move away, even in spite of the playful effort she made to deny Shyvana her prize. She blinked, eyes widening at the dragon's thunderous growl, the rumbling vibrations making her own throat tremble.

 

With a suckling pop, Shyvana pulled free and licked her lips. "Try all you like, but you are  _mine_!"

 

Syndra gasped, forgetting her retort as pointed fingers pressed themselves against her loins, digging deep into her layered dress. They curled into her womanhood, grazing her with such a possessive force that a flare of pleasure sent her back arching on reflex. The moment her concentration broke, the hot, thick, wetness of Shyvana's tongue stole into her open mouth.

 

Her indignation vanished under Shyvana's fervent kiss, her toes curling at how her own tongue was so casually overwhelmed. She tried to reciprocate, but found it made her lover's lips squeeze harder, and her tongue even more domineering. Her dress became entirely too snug, her body too hot, Shyvana's weight much too heavy. Air became scarce and she half-heartedly smacked at the warrior's backside with her hand to break free, rousing her after a few attempts.

 

Panting and huffing, their hot breaths blew onto one another, a thin trail of spittle hanging between them that stretched as they pulled away with a shudder. The grinding hand she wanted so much disappeared, an absence she longed to be rid of.

 

Syndra panted, blinking her eyes into focus. "Your hunger is insatiable, dragon."

 

Between breaths, Shyvana chuckled and sat upright, straddling Syndra's stomach. "Hunger?" she mused while reaching up to undo the knot that kept her braided hair in place, throwing her red locks open. "Oh, it's so much more than that, Syndra."

 

The sovereign's eyes widened, her heart leaping in her chest. A blush, not just of arousal, warmed her cheeks and neck, tickling her nerves in embarrassment. Perhaps it was the way Shyvana purred her name, or the long, heated stare that her own eyes couldn't turn away from.

 

"Shall I show you?" the dragon asked with a sultry smile, her fingers pulling forcefully at the delicate cloth covering Syndra’s cleavage.

 

"This dress  _is_  expensive …"

 

"Not like that," Shyvana shot back, pulling away from Syndra and off the bed. "Hold on, let me get my pants. You better take that helmet off, too."

 

Syndra looked at Shyvana curiously, watching as the dragon smiled and slowly narrowed her eyes. The resounding snap of her buckle unclasping echoed through the bedroom, falling to the floor in a casual, practiced motion that sent Syndra's heart racing. The tiny clink-clink of the buckle danced in her ears, her fingers tingling as she raced to remove her helmet. With a casual wave of her hand, dark magic sent the pristine helmet floating off to the room's table.

 

_I knew I wore it for too long,_  Syndra grumbled to herself, tousling her long, white hair to let it breathe. Her eyes watched Shyvana all the while, never straying from the slender curves of the dragon’s waist as she bent over, wiggling her hips to free herself from her armor. Piece-by-piece, she removed its metal faulds, revealing the tight black undergarments that clung to her like a second skin, perfectly framing her taut, palmable rump.

 

Syndra paused as her attention narrowed, admiring the athletic shape of the dragon’s muscles.  _They look better than I remember,_  she thought with a lewd smile. Her eyes trailed upward as Shyvana turned around and kicked a foot up on the bed, reaching down to undo the clasps on her shin guards. Her entire body looked divinely firm in that moment, and Syndra felt a sharp jolt race down her spine at the sight of the dragon flexing, nearly moaning out loud. Only the hand clasped quickly over her mouth kept the noise from escaping.

 

"Oh, my back is so sore. Perhaps I'll take that massage from you after we …" Shyvana's purring tease trailed off at the sound, looking up with a confused expression at Syndra's pointed gaze. "What's wrong?"

 

"Do that again," Syndra commanded quickly, pointing with her other hand. The dragon's brows creased with confusion.

 

"Do what?"

 

"The thing with your arms that you just did."

 

An amused smile flitted across Shyvana's face as she raised her arms, each one curling upwards into a nice, circular shape—every inch of muscle contorting and flexing in an eye-catching dance. Her motions flowed in a controlled wave, causing her shoulders and upper chest to rise and fall with each breath, adding a slight lift to the dragon's pert breasts.

 

"Ah, so you like this?" she asked teasingly, changing again so one arm outstretched to the side, the other curved behind as if she were throwing something.

 

" _Yes_ ," Syndra said, sitting forward on her knees to angle for a closer look. She caught Shyvana's smug grin from the corner of her eye, but her attention remained on the show, watching as the dragon effortlessly rotated through attractive postures.

 

"Really? Why?"

 

An honest question, though she found it silly. "I have not truly seen you undressed before."

 

Shyvana threw her head back as a bark of laughter escaped her. "I recall some rather heated nights a few weeks back. Or was that a dream?"

 

"Not that, you boob," the sovereign replied, sliding off the bed with a roll of her eyes. The cool ground met her exposed toes, sending a drafty chill up her legs. On equal footing, she could see quite cleanly over the woman's head. She stood and placed her hands on Shyvana's shoulders, reassuringly.

 

"Standing before me like this, with only the two of us, I ..."

 

Everything had made perfect sense in her head, and it just bumbled out of her lips the second she spoke. Were she not so in control, Syndra would have cringed at listening to herself.

 

"Your strength, scales, dashing charms. You are very beautiful."

 

"Ah," the red-haired warrior cooed. “There's my sweet virgin, all blushing smiles and sweet words."

 

"I-I keep saying that is hardly relevant now!" Syndra deflected as two long arms wrapped around her neck, locking her in closer to Shyvana. The dragon stood up, kissing her in a slow, gentle embrace that eased Syndra's sudden anxiety. When they parted, her mouth was left slightly agape, a fluttery and pleasant knot in her belly.

 

"I'll let you look as much as you want another night," Shyvana said breathily, flecks of crimson bleeding into the molten gold of her eyes. "But, you belong somewhere else right now."

 

Syndra slowly backed up as the dragon pushed closer and closer with her measured steps. "And where might that be?"

 

“On my bed,” Shyvana growled, her hands firmly groping at Syndra’s breasts as she stepped forward, pushing Syndra back until they both fell onto the bedding. “There aren’t any buttons, right?”

 

Syndra's brow furrowed thoughtfully, her hand instinctively moving to the fold of the cloth belt at her waist. "No, this kind of dress simply folds at the seam here, and ..."

 

Her words were quickly cut short as Shyvana’s hands flew to the tightly-wound seam at her chest. In a single, effortless pull, Shyvana all but tore the dress completely open, causing the mage’s hefty breasts to spring out of the fine, silken layers of her inner shirt and leaving her pert, swollen nipples completely exposed to the cool air. Her eyes flashed wide and she simply stared back with her mouth agape.

 

"There we are," the dragon said, gloating. Two warm hands, roughened by scale and hardship, sank possessively into Syndra’s creamy white breasts.

 

Syndra squeezed her knees together absently, fighting down the sudden urge to arch her back and push her chest forward into the dragon’s hands. Never in any of her torrid fantasies had she imagined such arousal being so roughly and casually handled by the dragon; it was different in a way she wasn't certain how to answer yet.

 

“Hmph. How impulsive,” she reproved, masking her excitement behind annoyance. “Are all dragons so greedy with their women?”

 

"We do take what we want," Shyvana remarked with airy, self-assured tone, eyebrows curled in appreciation. As if to punctuate the statement, she slipped her fingers around the points of Syndra’s nipples and squeezed playfully, delighting in the stifled moans that each tweak and rub invoked. The mage moved to cover the erect nubs with one of her arms, but she playfully bit at the air with her teeth, chasing it away. “Mine.”

 

Syndra's eyes widened as her lover's head dipped and a hot breath enveloped her sensitive points. Closing her eyes, she waited, all too keenly aware of the hands holding her; the dragon lifted her breasts and puffed air over her nipples, slowly drawing her mouth closer and closer until she couldn't imagine those warm lips being more than an inch away.

 

But they never came.

 

Cracking a glowing eye open, Syndra met Shyvana with a baleful glare. Shyvana’s cheeks simply dimpled into a smile, and then her mouth slowly parted, the dragon’s wet, glistening tongue stretching until it grazed the tip of her flesh. She bit her lip and watched in fascination as the enticingly-long muscle swirled around, brushing and painting the edges of her nipples, leaving a tantalizing swathe of spittle in its wake.

 

"All mine," Shyvana mumbled, sounding as if she were half speaking to herself.

 

The dragon’s hot mouth sank down and encompassed the pink flesh of her areola, her scaly hands pawing and squeezing at Syndra’s full breasts strongly. “They’re so soft—and big,” she praised, swirling her warm tongue around the underside of the mage’s nipples and suckling them until they were stiflingly erect. “I could suck on them for hours!”

 

“Treat them right and I might allow you to,” Syndra teased, blushing slightly. The dragon glanced up at her, and Syndra suddenly let out a sharp gasp, feeling a sharp, pinching pleasure as the dragon latched onto her aching nipple with her teeth and nibbled gently. “Nngg—yes—just like that!” she praised, lifting her chest up and stroking the back of Shyvana’s head.

 

Spurred on by her lover’s words, Shyvana redoubled her efforts and pursed her lips, slathering Syndra's nub with a hard, throaty suck while squeezing her breasts in lewd, massaging pumps. She grinned as the mage’s hips rolled upwards in response, futilely grinding against her own, and pulled her mouth away with a loud, wet pop as she rose up.

 

"How insatiable," Syndra sputtered, fanning her sweating face.

 

"Don't play coy, woman," Shyvana demanded, grabbing the sovereign's hips and hoisting her up, throwing her further onto the bed with draconian strength. She joined Syndra in laughter while climbing up onto her knees, pursuing her with a perverted glint in her eye.

 

"This—" Syndra addressed, hefting her red and swollen breasts, “—is not coy. Now, get back here."

 

"Hmm, a tempting idea," Shyvana teased, trailing her hand down the center of Syndra's chest. Tilting her head and smirking, she brought her fingertips lower, dipping between the valley of her bosom, and further still, until they hooked around the folds of her dress. Slowly, she brought them under the seam of the folds that covered the Ionian's waist and began to pull them open. "But, there are other treasures for me ..."

 

Snorting, Syndra let her big breasts flop free and grabbed Shyvana's wrists. "Treasure?"

 

“Dragon, remember?” Shyvana intoned airily, continuing to unwrap the folds of Syndra’s plum dress until she’d uncovered the naked, creamy skin that lay underneath.

 

A shiver raced its way down Syndra’s body from being so suddenly exposed, in stark contrast to the smoldering heat of Shyvana’s gaze. She instinctively moved a hand to cover herself, biting her lip as the dragon’s eyes swept rakishly over her nakedness and left her tingling in nervous anticipation.

 

"Oh no you don't," Shyvana growled, pulling her black shirt off and shimmying out of her pants, effortlessly throwing them away. Planting her knees on either side of the sovereign's hips, she slowly lowered herself down until she was laying flush against her, hard scales kissing Syndra's soft, creamy-white skin. Slipping a hand into the mage's hair, she grabbed her head, keeping their faces locked together almost close enough for another kiss. "No getting shy on me now."

 

"I am not," Syndra defended hotly, pressing against Shyvana's scaly body defiantly. "But when you look at me like that, it is ..." She frowned, trying to pick out the word. "Desirable?"

 

Shyvana grinned lecherously, tilting her head to whisper into the woman’s ear. "You know why, right?" she asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

 

"No. Why?"

 

"Because, I  _want_  you."

 

Each word stirred trembling shudders in Syndra, igniting a pleasurable heat that started in the pit of her stomach and radiated all the way down to her loins. She hummed, pliant and yielding as Shyvana took both of her arms and pinned them to the bed.

 

"I’ve wanted you every day since the first time we met. The perfect woman who flew into my life, all power and beauty. Mmm, she gave me a lot of restless nights." As she spoke, Shyvana began rocking a little, her hips gyrating on Syndra's stomach. "Now she’s here, in my bed, naked and ready. I'm a little hot, you know."

 

Syndra couldn't help a giggle at how dry the one liner was. A hard shove into her, however, brought her laugh to a gasping halt.

 

"You mock me, but I'll remind that cute pussy of yours who it belongs to."

 

Leaning in, Syndra huffed into Shyvana's ear, "Those are big words, but I thought there would be more than just talking." She knew draconic pride wouldn’t tolerate such a casual dismissal, and smirked shrewdly as a crimson flare blazed in Shyvana’s eyes.

 

The warrior growled and climbed off her, grabbing at her as she rumbled deeply. "Turn over."

 

Before she could even react, Syndra found herself being pulled up by her arms and flipped onto her belly, landing on a fresh, cool part of the bed. Picking a long lock of hair from her face, she pushed herself up and sat on her elbows, peeking over her shoulder. Her brows shot upward as Shyvana rummaged around in her dress, hiking it up onto her back while hot, scaled hands grabbed at her naked hips, pulling her onto her knees and leaving her butt exposed in the air.

 

“What are you doing?!” she asked, incredulously.

 

"My secret technique," Shyvana remarked, completely serious.

 

Intrigued, Syndra settled back onto the bed, her head leaning upon her folded arms. The whole position felt silly to her; she tried to keep her legs shut, but Shyvana's hands grabbed at her thighs and peeled them open with utter ease. A trickling nervousness arose from being so completely exposed, her wet pussy perfectly framed for her lover’s eyes. She was glad that she was stuck facing forward, where her uncontrollable blushing was out of sight.

 

_How does anyone do this seriously?_  Syndra wondered. The urge to cover herself up came so easily, and yet she wanted Shyvana to see her. She wanted to feel those rough hands massaging her butt and thighs, possessively grabbing her with a desire that made her weak in the knees, and found herself quivering with anticipation as Shyvana's fingers trailed inward.

 

Syndra clutched at the sheets as a single digit traced along her wet nether lips, nibbling on her bottom lip to stop from gasping out. With each teasing flick of that damnable finger, her hips tensed up and she had to resist pushing back just to get it inside her.

 

“Hmph,” she muttered, mustering up her control again. “Is that al–ahhh?!”

 

Without warning, Shyvana dipped her finger slightly inwards and dragged it down the length of the mage’s folds, tracing across her clit. "I knew it," Shyvana commented, sounding far too conversational for Syndra. "You get really wet down here."

 

"And?" Syndra shot back, trying to suppress how easily her back arched at the touch.

 

"Just my kind of treasure," her lover sang, the bed creaking as she shifted around.

 

Syndra shuddered as the very tips of Shyvana's rough fingers caressed up and down her soft folds, pushing her hips back into the dragon’s hand as she stroked and traced the edge of her outer mound. No matter how closely Shyvana teased her entrance by dipping inward along the parting of her inner lips, they never went inside, and she knew the dragon was taunting her now.

 

Before she could say anything, she heard, as much as felt, the  _slap_  of a hand against her rump and couldn't help jumping a little.

 

"Fuck, you're just so—you’re so damn perfect!” Shyvana rasped, appreciatively squeezing Syndra's cheek with her other hand and sinking her fingers into it greedily.

 

"Mmm, of course I am," Syndra preened, unable to stop herself from smiling. Still tingling from the surprisingly pleasant buzz that Shyvana’s slap had left behind, she shifted her rear and raised it in a way she hoped would make her seem even more inviting to her dragon, shivering with perverse thrill as Shyvana inhaled sharply at the sight. "Do you not want a taste, dragon?"

 

"Ah, I wasn't going to," Shyvana mumbled. An odd conflict in her voice confused Syndra.

 

"What? Why?"

 

"I wanted to—oh, fuck it. Secret technique for another day!"

 

Scaled hands took hold of Syndra‘s hips, and faster than she could realize, she was rolled over onto her back. Her hair and open dress were thrown into a tussle around her, a beautiful mess. In a single swoop, the dragon's head nestled between her thighs, the wet fire of Shyvana's mouth descending on her labia. Her lover's long, flexible tongue swept up and down, gathering all her wetness in long licks and audible suckles, and swallowing with growling approval.

 

"There. Right there," Syndra purred, lifting her hips as she grabbed Shyvana by her crimson locks, spreading her legs wide to give her lover the deepest reach possible.

 

The dragon licked from the very bottom of her slit all the way to the top, stopping just before her flushed hood, tending to the outside with fervent detail. No matter how Syndra squirmed or jutted her hips, Shyvana rode her with an infuriatingly practiced grace, refusing to take that one extra step forward.

 

"I never thought dragons were such teases," Syndra half-grumbled.

 

With a slurping pull the dragon parted from her, though only for a moment. Twin gold eyes peeked up from between her legs, locks of crimson hair framed around them. Syndra's breath hitched, pleasant goosebumps upon her neck from the  _look_  Shyvana gave her.

 

"I’m tasting, not teasing," the dragon said with a wiggle of her brows. She sunk lower once more, but this time, her tongue delved past the pink folds inviting her in.

 

"What are you wo-oh—ahh," Syndra stumbled over her words, a reflexive need to press closer overcoming her. She spread her legs open just a little further, utterly delighted by Shyvana's thick tongue filling her, a happily satisfied moan slipping out. The long, slow strokes deep inside her sped up, joined by half-kisses and nuzzles. Each long lick dragged out, her thin lips kissing her folds with tiny nibbles, the drag of her lover's tongue on the outside plunging inward and lapping hungrily.

 

She clung to Shyvana's red hair, reveling in the belly-tightening, leg-trembling pleasure her dragon's ravenous attention brought. A chuckling, yet muted, laugh reached her ears with tiny, ticklish shakes in her loins. She tried to frown, but any semblances of clear thoughts disappeared under a wave of wet heat. Shyvana's tongue snaked around Syndra's clitoral hood, licking within a hair's breadth without covering it fully.

 

"Oh fuck," the Ionian moaned in her native tongue, clenching Shyvana's head harder, and brought the other to her mouth where she bit a knuckle. "More, I want more!"

 

Her heart pounding wildly, Syndra's hips rolled with lustful encouragement. To her lewd delight, her lover's arms hooked around her thighs, firmly securing them. With new-found leverage, Shyvana's licked and kissed from top to bottom, sucking all the while her hands rubbed the sovereign's fair thighs. She gladly gave into the rising tide of emotions, swept away in a wave of pleasure, her hips rolling to the tempo of Shyvana's mouth.

 

Throwing her head back, she moaned with abandon, her breaths stuttering with unrestrained passions. "Shyvana," she whispered, her lover's name a jumble in the echoes of her magical voice. "Shyvana!" Syndra spoke again, louder. The dragon's fevered pitch never relented, ravishing her womanhood with that deliriously skillful mouth. Where pleasure began and she ended, she couldn't tell anymore.

 

Careening over the edge, Syndra squealed into her closed fist. Her entire body seized up and relaxed at once, shuddering from head to toe. A gasping moan spilled out into a shrill cry; Syndra's hips bucked and her pussy throbbed, clenching, tightened with joyful orgasm. Her lover's unbelievable tongue worked inside of her, slurping with wild, wondrous pleasure that arose from the very pit of her stomach. Poignant and powerful, it took away her worries and senses alike, crashing through her.

 

She had lost track of how long she'd laid there, panting and squirming on the bed, delightful release having left her nerves utterly raw. The world looked blurry and far away, Shyvana's rough skin and volcanic aura the only things she was certain of.

 

Squinting with unfocused eyes, she found herself being moved, warm hands grabbing at her thighs and chest. Her sweat-slicked skin peeled away from what was left of her dress, the garments almost savagely taken away. Only her finger jewelry remained, and being so completely exposed to Shyvana made the warmth between her legs even hotter. She blinked her eyes open, Shyvana's beautiful blue-skinned face greeting her with a cheeky smirk. The dragon cuddled up to her, their chests kissing and their legs intertwined, gently petting and rubbing wherever her hands could reach.

 

Syndra relished the attention of laying in Shyvana's strong arms, leaving her with a sense of comfort and safety that drove her deeper into the embrace.

 

"Someone enjoyed herself."

 

"Oh, please. That tongue of yours has—nghh—ruined me." Syndra groaned, only to inhale sharply when a hand teasingly dipped between her sensitive legs.

 

"Has it now?"

 

The mage rolled her eyes at the innocent tone. "For several nights I tried to find relief and, believe me, it did not work." Confusion flitted across Shyvana's face until the biggest, smuggest grin Syndra had ever seen spread over her face. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, opting instead for flattery. "Perhaps a dragon does possess  _some_  skill worthy of me."

 

"Only some?" Shyvana echoed, cupping one of Syndra's breasts and squeezing aggressively. "Clearly I've not eaten enough if the maiden can still talk back."

 

"Really? Eating me?" Syndra remarked under her breath, knitting her brows together. At first, she had thought that Shyvana meant it literally, but the dragon’s lecherous smile revealed the real meaning behind those words.

 

"Oh yes. You’re  _delicious_ ," Shyvana said, her lips parting into a silly grin.

 

" _Really?_ " Syndra exasperated.

 

"Ah, you wouldn't know, hmm? How lucky for you." The dragon's hand slid down Syndra's side, cupping her bubbly butt.

 

"Know what?"

 

"Dragons like me … well, we have a deep appetite," Shyvana intoned, a conspiratorial look creeping over her as she leaned in closer, drawing Syndra's rapt attention. "We don't always get to, but when we do, we love eating a maiden's pussy."

 

A storm of emotion swept through Syndra as Shyvana’s sultry—yet ridiculous—words landed, causing a blush to spill out onto her cheeks from how utterly crass it all sounded. To her overwhelming vexation, Shyvana broke into a fit of hissing laughter. Syndra couldn't keep frowning for long and smiled as she sat up, giggling as Shyvana rolled away from her and onto the bed.  _Dragons,_  she thought bemusedly, combing her hair into some semblance of order. She knew she must've looked like a mess by now, but at least she could keep her hair straight.

 

As Shyvana's laughter died down, Syndra looked over and caught the dragon nestled in the sheets, her lecherous smile alight in a veiny, magmatic blush. Syndra's hand paused its combing as she watched the cracks in the dragon's skin glow with hidden fire–a living power, not unlike her own. Amusingly, the more she watched, the fierier Shyvana's blush became.

 

"What?" Shyvana asked after a long minute of silence, her gold eyes darting around nervously.

 

"Nothing," Syndra said with a leer. She shuffled across the bed and slid onto Shyvana's stomach, straddling the dragon as she leaned onto her shoulders. With her thighs and loins flush against Shyvana, she indulged in a slow, grating roll of her hips, pointedly asserting control. Yet, in doing so, she felt keenly aware of every little patch of rough skin and scale, and even more so as she rubbed herself against them. A trickling curiosity bloomed into an idea she'd never thought of before.

 

"Now, I have my dragon," she remarked, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. To her delight, she had the entirety of Shyvana's muscular, feminine form open to her, tempting her hands to grab and grope. The dragon's breasts were not at all like her own, smooth on their topsides, the unders and edges indented with small, vulnerable ridges. She brought her hand down and traced her fingers along them, idly reacquainting herself with the unusually soft skin and little crevices.

 

" _Your_  dragon?" Shyvana's brow rose upward dubiously.

 

"How foolish to let your guard down," Syndra chided and squeezed her chest, the suddenness of it stirring a surprised hiss. Smirking, she indulged in each grope, appreciating the fine scaly details of Shyvana's pert chest. " _I_  am in control now."

 

"I'm sure," the dragon remarked, setting her hands on Syndra's hips.

 

The sovereign stared down with glowing eyes and narrowed them, understanding the challenge for what it was. Ideas of all sorts turned over in her mind, but an answer came when her eyes fell upon Shyvana's glistening lips. Grinning with pure wickedness, she looked over to her clothes on the table and waved a hand, bringing her long, silken shawl to life and causing it to creep through the air like a snake.

 

"You will learn your place soon enough," the sovereign promised, snapping the cloth between her hands tautly, its loose ends floating beside her.

 

"What's that?" Shyvana asked, her expression quickly changed from utter confusion to stark realization.

 

"A shawl, woven from rare, Ionian spider silk. You should feel honored—expensive does not begin to describe how hard they are to come by," Syndra informed haughtily, lifting Shyvana's hands up and wrapping the fabric around them.

 

Halfway into binding the dragon’s hands, she found out she had no idea what she was doing. The knots she might use on her dress didn't work at all and she worried the stupid thing would fall right off the instant Shyvana tested the bindings. Eventually, she settled on simply wrapping Shyvana's hands into an awkward silken ball.

 

"Huh, well that's … something," Shyvana mused, hanging on the word.

 

"What is wrong?"

 

"Nothing. I've never felt something like this," Shyvana remarked with a laugh. "It's soft but it makes my skin tingle."

 

Pleased with her success, Syndra leaned down and hugged herself closer, bringing their faces within a hair's breadth. Pressed together in a quick, sweet taste, she stole away with a smile, leaving her captive dazed.

 

"I've heard rumors of a once legendary kind of warrior," she said, rising upright as she idly trailed her fingers down Shyvana's chest. "I admit to a little curiosity about them."

 

"What?" Shyvana's brows creased, her uncertain gaze flicking down and up again.

 

"With you under my grasp," Syndra continued, smiling a little too widely, "I might experience what being a Dragon Rider is all about," she teased, rocking her hips atop the mortified dragon, delighted by her disgruntled sounds.

 

"Nooo, not that joke! You don't get to say mine was bad now!" Shyvana groaned, throwing her hands up and kicking her legs.

 

Syndra laughed as Shyvana struggled pitifully against her rolling hips, her amusement quickly turning to short, stifled gasps.  _She’s so hard and bumpy,_  she thought, biting her lip aimlessly as her gaze wandered between the valley of Shyvana’s pert breasts and solid, toned stomach. Tiny jolts of pleasure shot up from between her thighs as her smooth skin bucked against the rougher surface, slickening the dragon’s pebbly scales. The friction felt surprisingly delightful, and she found herself squeezing her thighs harder together, chasing the sensation.

 

"You are quite different from my pillows."

 

“I’d hope so.”

 

 “That was meant as a compliment,” Syndra sighed, swatting Shyvana’s thigh.

 

“I’d hope so,” the dragon repeated, grinning back up at her.

 

Syndra rolled her eyes and glared down at the smug dragon, reaching down and capturing Shyvana's thick, dark nipples in her hands. "Stubborn dragon,” she said, rolling and tweaking them between her fingers, noticing how the firm muscles of Shyvana’s stomach tightened between her legs.

 

"Stubborn woman," Shyvana grunted, her hard body jerking.

 

Syndra leaned over and narrowed her eyes, planting a sweet, playful kiss on Shyvana’s lips. She nibbled, seeking entry with tiny flicks of her tongue, and the dragon eagerly pressed her mouth back against Syndra’s. Then, just as Shyvana’s hot lips began to part and her thick tongue flicked outwards, Syndra pulled away. With a wet pop, she leaned to the side and whispered into the dragon’s scaled ear with a devious smile.

 

"And here I thought about being nice."

 

"Nice?" the Demacian echoed with disbelief, her gaze following Syndra’s hand and the faint crackles of magic flowing around it. Three tiny dark spheres formed, no larger than marbles in size. They pulsed with barely-constrained power, energy shimmering across their event horizons.

 

Syndra almost laughed at Shyvana's flash of recognition.

 

"Oh."

 

"Oh yes."

 

Turning around, Syndra sat backwards on Shyvana, sliding backwards to give the dragon a better view of her butt. Yet, as she grazed along the dragon’s hard skin and scales, she immediately noticed the how the bumps and ridges felt slightly different against her. She looked down in curiosity and rolled her hips in a long, slow grind, delightful shudders working up her back from the new riveting, but familiar, sensations.

 

"Now I'm a little annoyed at being tied up," Shyvana growled, rubbing against Syndra’s butt with her bound hands.

 

Twirling her hair around one finger, Syndra leaned forward, reaching for the dragon's shapely legs. The moment she tried, however, Shyvana clamped her legs shut together. She squinted at the tensed muscles and picked at the scaled skin with her jeweled claws.

 

"Hmmm, perhaps you are the bashful one?" she mused, raising her open hand. With the slightest thought, her magic surged out into a flickering, purple glow, enveloping the dragon’s legs radiantly.

 

"Just try to get those inside me," Shyvana snorted, rolling her eyes.

 

“Easily,” Syndra replied, lifting the dragon’s legs straight upwards with a sharp, magical tug until they were nearly as vertical as the sovereign herself.

 

Hugging her lover's strong legs, she peered down, habitually brushing a lock of hair out of the way. She couldn't help but smile at the sharp inhale that followed, a devious playfulness swelling in her heart. Glistening blue skin, flushed with warmth, peeked out from between Shyvana's thighs, hinting at the pink folds nestled within.

 

Shyvana tried to struggle, shaking her legs and hips from side to side, but her efforts were too weak to resist the magic holding her. "You damn cheater.”

 

Scooting back just a little, Syndra peered down and dropped the three spheres, letting them roll onto the bed like glass marbles.  _I can finally try this out on her,_  she thought with a certain excitement, steeping her jeweled fingers on either side of Shyvana's half-exposed pussy and spreading them with intent.

 

"Wait," the dragon said with complete seriousness, causing Syndra to pause and looked over her shoulder. "You're  _not_  sticking something sharp down there."

 

"Oh, these?" Syndra chuckled, her brief moment of worry vanishing as she flexed the jewelry on her fingertips. "They are blunted. They look sharp, but I do use them on myself."

 

"You what?"

 

"They are a complete bore to clean. But, they are quite versatile; their little curved ridges of metal, or the small bumps of the gemstones provide … such wonderful diversity."

 

"I'm starting to feel like the virgin here," Shyvana muttered under her breath.

 

Syndra’s lips curled as the dragon lifted her hips invitingly, stroking her fingertips along Shyvana's folds and gently spreading them. The soft, pink inner flesh stood out in sharp contrast to the rough, blue scales that lined the dragon’s body, gentle and vulnerable. Desire, curiosity, reverence, and apprehension consumed her thoughts; feverish emotions that suddenly made her passionate dreams feel too small and unreal compared to the realness of Shyvana's beauty. She nibbled on her lower lip, gaze fixated on Shyvana’s glistening cunny even as her attention dragged toward the tiny dark spheres on the bed.

 

Picking one up, she rolled the sphere between her fingers, her other hand delicately stroking Shyvana's nether lips. She relished the wetness that clung to her fingers as they stroked along the circle of the dragon's outer folds, working their way up just short of the crown before descending again.

 

"Ohh, those fingers," Shyvana said with a tiny moan, angling her hips temptingly. "But what are you going to do with that sphere?"

 

Syndra's brow tweaked at the innocent tone and she brought the sphere down. Prying her lover's pinkish lips apart with two fingers, she pressed the glowing orb to the soft, inner flesh. Shyvana jolted underneath her, stiffening up an instant, though her thighs trembled with invitation. "How does that feel?"

 

"Hnn. Maybe a little nice, I guess," the warrior grumbled, despite the tightness of her voice.

 

_Such a tough act,_  Syndra noted amusedly while pressing the sphere inwards with her fingers, taking her sweet time. Shyvana's clenching walls resisted, but with a little increase in pressure, she watched the orb disappear inch by inch. She smiled as the dragon quivered around her fingers, those kissable pink folds enveloping her sphere. One more tiny push of her finger and the orb disappeared, completely inside.

 

"There is the first," Syndra sang, spying over her shoulder. "Now, for two and three."

 

"F-fine," Shyvana bit out, her bound hands fidgeting. Her eyes were scrunched in concentration, her cheeks colored by a rampant blush that bloomed across her neck and face.

 

Grabbing another sphere without looking, Syndra remarked, "You know, you are beautiful when you do that." She smiled at the earnest surprise that overtook Shyvana, the dragon's veined blush deepening further.

 

Delighted at her lover's vexation, Syndra hurriedly went back to work and started slipping the second sphere inside. It went in more easily than the first, but the third gave her trouble. Shyvana's pussy trembled, kissing her fingers with their slippery wetness as she tried to push the final orb in.  _Can you fit three?_  Syndra thought, scrunching her nose. With her other hand, she started to stroke again, reaching all the way down and pulling her jeweled fingers right to the top. Lost in concentration, the shuddering gasp from behind caught her by surprise. A rhythmic pulse rocked through Shyvana's lower half in a long, shuddering shake followed by a gush of hot juices rushing out.

 

The troublesome sphere slipped right inside, swallowed by the dragon’s contracting folds with a tiny pop.

 

Syndra blinked owlishly and snuck a glance at Shyvana's glazed look.  _I barely did anything,_  she puzzled. Slowly, the dragon's unfocused eyes met hers, crimson hair in a messy tussle around her head.

 

"Well? What'sss next?" Shyvana purred, the corner of her lip tucked into a coy smirk.

 

"It will be something  _magical_ ," the Ionian teased, twirling one lock of long white hair around her finger. She released Shyvana's legs, letting them flop on the bed and pulling the spheres deeper inside. With their connection to her, she could feel their presence inside the dragon’s clenching passage, right where she believed her lover's sweet spot was. The little tremors that passed through Shyvana told her everything she needed to know.

 

She sat up and turned around, planting herself on Shyvana's belly, eager to start, but wanted to savor the moment a little longer. An allure hung about Shyvana in a way she couldn't quite put words to; the latent ferocity tempered by need, or perhaps the half-lidded gaze alight in her draconic blush. Those warm, gold eyes gazing so hungrily at her were something she could stare at for hours, but Shyvana’s voice quickly brought her back to attention.

 

"You're not going to make me beg, are you?" the dragon intoned with a hint of impatience.

 

"Why have you beg when I am already riding you?" the sovereign chuckled. She leaned forward and braced her arms around the sides of Shyvana's head, giving her lover a tantalizing view of her hefty breasts. No matter how much Shyvana tried, her mouth wouldn't quite reach either of the plump, erect nipples standing before her.

 

She ignored Shyvana’s groaning response to the terrible joke, rocking her hips forward and grinding the length of her womanhood upon the dragon’s scaled belly. With each thrust, the spheres embedded inside Shyvana mimicked the motion, pushing deeper and then pulling back out in rhythm. They gasped in unison as the spheres moved inside Shyvana—one gasping in excited surprise, the other in much needed relief.

 

"Don't ssstop," Shyvana demanded, bucking her hips and squirming between Syndra's legs.

 

"Haa haa," the mage half-moaned, exhilaration awakening her every nerve. The rough scales kissed her thighs and nether lips, making her body tingle with the wonderful friction. She couldn't believe how each scale felt so slightly different, their bumpy ridges pressing into her in just the right ways.

 

"I can feel all of you," Syndra panted, throwing her loose hair over her shoulder. "So hard and strong and …  _mine._ "

 

Rocking a little harder, their breasts jiggled with each energetic thrust. She felt the effects of every throaty moan and shudder Shyvana let out, those hard muscles twitching madly between her legs. Her gaze fell to Shyvana's thin lips as a half-intelligible reply came out, the dragon's eyes squeezed tight as she pressed back into the mattress.

 

Syndra dragged her hips back, settling on top of Shyvana's pubic mound and grinding against the dragon as she sought her moaning mouth. As their lips touched, the dragon’s slitted eyes snapped open and looked back at her, Syndra suckling and biting in an attempt to capture the dragon’s long, tenacious tongue. There was no gentleness to their kiss, both of them vying for control as their tongues attacked and retreated in turn, Syndra's lipstick smearing upon both their lips. A thin trail of spittle hung between them as they broke apart for air, neither one of them caring.

 

A shudder rolled down Syndra’s back as she found the perfect angle, a particular patch of Shyvana's scales jolting her clitoris and electrifying her hips.  _There, oh, right there!_

 

"Hey, Sssyndra," Shyvana rumbled, a fire burning beneath her cheeks. "Together. Let'sss go together."

 

"Say it again," Syndra squeezed between breaths. "Say my name."

 

Shyvana's firm hands tensed and squirmed between their chests, the flimsy silken shawl coming undone and allowing her hands to slip free. Unbound, she quickly slid them around Syndra’s back and pulled her downwards, until their chests were pressed flat against each other. Hearts pounding as their sweat-slicked breasts sliding together deliciously, she craned her neck and settled her lips near Syndra’s ear.

 

"Sssyndra," the dragon purred, rolling the word on her tongue, her voice reverberating all the way down her lover’s back.

 

With the strongest of pleasures swirling in the sovereign's mind, she tried to speak, her whole body beginning to seize and constrict. "Shy—ah, ahh—vana!"

 

Syndra’s thighs clenched desperately around Shyvana with a mind of their own, driven by the feverish need to feel every inch of draconic skin against her naked self. The dragon’s voice rumbled in the back of her mind, crying out with such womanly pleasure that it left her own legs weak and wobbly. Her body rocked in blissful spasms, each writhing squirm made tantalizingly worse by her lover’s rough scales and firm muscles. Clutched to Shyvana, she sought her mouth with ravenous kisses, sinking into her strong hold as far she could.

 

Shuddering with wondrous pleasure, she pried herself away from the dragon’s lips, the need to breathe overcoming her. She tugged herself free with a parting moan, panting and drinking in the smouldering air, warmed by the fires of her draconic lover. Their holds loosened, but they kept each other in their arms, seeking reprieve without separation.

 

"Haa—haha," Syndra sputtered in laughter, a lopsided smile on her face as she fell onto her side. The sheer sensation of sliding across the dragon's body wrung a gasp and shuddering on its own.  One rough hand, looped under her, found her butt and squeezed possessively. Pressing further into it, Syndra looked up and met Shyvana's flushed face.

 

"By my father'ss blood, woman, you're amazing," the dragon lavished, nuzzling into her lover's head of white hair. "I've never felt anything like that. Thossse ssspheresss of yourss. All that power sshaking between my legss ..."

 

“Shaking?” Syndra blinked. "Ohh, yes—that," she drawled, her glowing eyes narrowing mischievously as she cast  her free hand downward and slid it over Shyvana's flushed loins. Her fingers cupped her lover's mound, drawing a sharp inhale and shudder from Shyvana. "Yes, they have that effect. There is nothing anywhere that makes you feel quite so  _full._ "

 

"I noticed," Shyvana intoned with a wry smirk.

 

"But you have not yet felt the best part," Syndra teased, curling her fingers suggestively.

 

"I think I have."

 

"No, here. Roll over, I will show you."

 

Shyvana eyed her bemusedly and rose up, hugging the Ionian. She smirked at Syndra's wide-eyed stare and planted a wet, hard-but-sweet kiss on her lips. It ended as quickly as it began, leaving Syndra a little dazed as she untangled the two of them.

 

"Sit up on your knees a little," Syndra sputtered, grasping for words. "Now, bend over and lean onto your elbows.”

 

Shyvana curled her brow and looked back at her with a questioning glance, but complied, lowering herself onto her hands and knees.

 

“Yes—now, spread your legs open. Keep your hips level and sprawl forward until your belly tightens up," Syndra grinned, knowingly.

 

The dragon crawled a bit further up on her arms and pushed her chest into the mattress, lifting her butt up into the air. Her reaction betrayed the spheres’ intended effects immediately; eyes widening, her legs quivered and she let out a guttural moan, a rolling tremble shaking her from her head to her toes.

 

"It … it got tighter," Shyvana panted, her crimson hair strewn messily about her shoulders.

 

"You can do so much more with them. Sitting, walking, stretching ..." Syndra rattled off a few more examples, earning an airy laugh.

 

"And you know all thisss how?"

 

"I have had a lot of time to myself at night," she said, winking. Her hand slid down over Shyvana's backside, stopping just over the tailbone and rubbing in large circles, sneaking a grope when it could. "Now, focus down there and try to push."

 

"Try to  _what_?" Shyvana asked, blinking incredulously.

 

"Push the spheres out. Feel them inside, use your muscles to guide them."

 

_She's probably never done anything similar to this before,_  Syndra mused, pausing at Shyvana’s dubious expression. "Hmm. Hold on."

 

Piece-by-piece, she unclasped her jewelry, slipping each off with practiced grace and waving them away. Then, rolling her fingers, she grabbed the dragon greedily and sunk her fingertips into her the firm cheeks of her rear. To Syndra’s satisfaction, Shyvana pushed back into her hands, balling the bedsheets in her fists as she commanded the spheres deeper inside.

 

“B-blood and thunder,” she swore, “Why are they moving like that?”

 

The sovereign laughed at the dubious look Shyvana shot from over her shoulder and eased her control of the tiny orbs, permitting them to roll free in the dragon's quivering pussy. "Are they not wonderful? Even if you grip down on them tightly, they resist—bumping and sliding around as if they had a mind of their own.”

 

A mighty shudder rocked its way through the dragon, turning her soft gasps of pleasure into a loud cry. She seized quickly, every muscle tightening at once as her toes curled, and eye-catching trembles went through her hips. Knees buckling, Shyvana's legs spread further apart, leaving the quivering dragon flat against the bed and biting her own arm to muffle herself.

 

Syndra's brow tweaked as she watched one of the orbs come gushing out with a slick pop, its shimmering surface gleaming with Shyvana’s wetness in the dim light. She plucked the magical sphere up from the dampened sheets and eyed it with amusement before flicking it aside, dispelling it in an instant.

 

"That is only the first one. Two more remain," she sang, drawing a sputtering moan in response. She couldn't help feeling a little giddy at having watched the fierce warrior softened into a kitten, mewling with need. It stroked her pride to know that  _she_  had such an effect on Shyvana despite the massive experience difference between them.

 

Making herself comfortable, Syndra locked her eyes onto the inviting expanse of Shyvana's rear. Her hands glided from the dragon’s ample hips to her firm bottom, fitting each cheek into her palms. There were no 'hard' scales where her hands roamed, only tough skin with the barest hint of roughness.

 

_Such strength,_  Syndra marveled, squeezing in appreciation. Shyvana's rear kept solid definition no matter what she did, every grope and handful of flesh failing to leave even the slightest impression. Her fingers traced around its edges, following the thin line between cheek and thigh, teasing slowly inwards towards her nether lips.

 

"Harder," Shyvana growled, scooted backward and presenting herself in needy desperation.

 

Syndra obliged, digging her fingers deeper into Shyvana’s supple blue skin, encouraged by heartfelt moans and the appreciative sway of her hips. "You do like it rough," the Ionian teased, her eyes falling to Shyvana's glistening womanhood. The outer lips parted just enough that the inner pink was freely showing, throbbing with every beat of the dragon's heart.

 

_I can see why you enjoy this so much,_  Syndra realized with a blushing chuckle. Darker in color, thin little trails of magmatic veins wormed their way through the dragon's loins. All of them seemed to lead to the parting center of Shyvana's precious place, tempting her to come closer. Biting at her lip, she watched as a thin trickle of wetness escaped her folds, adding to the tantalizing mess.

 

"F-fuck, thisss iss weird," Shyvana half-muttered. "But sssoo good!" Odd little twitches and spasms worked their way across her body, a rhythmic quivering Syndra knew all too well. The next sphere began its exit, hastened by the first's departure.

 

"You like it, then," she teased, playfully squeezing her lover's thigh as she eagerly watched the next sphere emerge, peeking out from between the dragon's nether lips. It slipped out and landed right into her waiting hand with a soft plop, just as wet and sticky as the last one.

 

"I'm almosst afraid to asssk what elsse you can do," Shyvana hissed out, her face pressed into the bedding as she started to laugh. "Fuck me, I-I can't sstop ssshaking!"

 

"If that is what my dragon wants," the sovereign grinned.

 

"W-what do you—?" Shyvana gasped, her words faltering as Syndra lifted up her legs with her power, elevating the dragon's loins to nearly eye level.

 

Scooting closer, Syndra brought her face right up to Shyvana's glistening womanhood. She stared hungrily, feeling its warmth radiating on her skin, a mixture of draconic heat and womanly desire that stirred a heady lust in her head. Then, slowly reaching up, she parted the dark blue outer lips with her fingers and leaned in, pressing her lips against its folds.

 

A hint of inner softness graced her tongue as it nestled between the rough, yet malleable, folds of the dragon’s pussy. She trailed along the edge of its wet outer lips, licking them completely clean before delving into the treat that awaited her. Warm, wet flesh graced her tongue as she slipped it deeper inside, her mouth tingling in excitement.

 

Syndra grinned as the dragon began to awkwardly buck against her face, pushing her tongue deeper with each thrust and slurping across Shyvana’s molten core. It shuddered around her, trying to hold her in as deeply as possible and rewarding her with more of the wonderful nectar.

 

"Don't ssstop!" Shyvana demanded, clutching at the bedsheets. As the dragon bucked and thrusted against Syndra’s mouth, the last sphere rolled inside her wildly.

 

Syndra quickly slid her fingers to the hood of Shyvana’s clitoris, teasing along its edges in an effort to coax the final orb from its resting place with a light massage. Just as the sphere began to sneak out, the sovereign slid her tongue downward to join her fingers, slowly running the flat of her tongue along the ridge of Shyvana’s hood.

 

 "Oh, fffuck," the dragon growled, sounding more beast than human.

 

A prickling light tickled the edge of Syndra’s vision and she cocked her head, her brows shooting straight up as she saw the angry, familiar, magmatic lines pulsating through the cracks of her lover’s scales. Their many-veined tendrils snaked underneath the dragon's dark blue skin, bubbling with dangerous anticipation. Recognizing Shyvana was close, Syndra resolved to see it through, coaxing the dragon's core to the explosive peak she knew was just out of reach.

 

Pure, orgasmic relief exploded from Shyvana’s center as a mighty spasm sent the marble-like sphere gushing out, painting Syndra's nose in a flood of arousal. Every muscle in the dragon’s body seized at once, not even a cry escaping. Heat radiated outward, her veins pulsing with an angry, ominous glow.

 

_All you have to do is let go,_  Syndra thought, reaching with her free hand to Shyvana's lower back, rubbing encouragingly. The dragon trembled in her hold, her glowing veins growing brighter by the second. In a single, shuddering release, a trembling roar erupted, followed by a bloom of light as pure, liquid flame spewed forth, its fiery crackle joining the cacophony. All at once, the roar ended and the fire sputtered down in an unimpressive puff of smoke.

 

Sweat rolled off Syndra in waves, the heat nearly unbearable. She stole one last suckle before backing away, dispelling the sphere and letting Shyvana down gently onto the bed. A blackened streak marred the bed cloth, scorched in layers that ran all the way to the edge mattress. She patted out the few remaining smolders, smothering the tiny flames before they could grow any larger.  _Well, at least it was not_ my _ceiling this time,_  she grinned, chuckling to herself.

 

_Strange—she tastes better now than I thought before,_  she mused, wiping her face clean as she watched Shyvana pant from exertion. Sitting back on the bed, she took a moment for her own relaxation, absently pulling the locks of her loose, messy hair into order. She brushed a thin sheen of sweat from her forehead and fanned herself, eying her lover.

 

"I knew you were hot," the sovereign smirked, overly pleased with her own terrible joke. She had expected a laugh, or maybe scorn for such an awful remark.

 

Not tears.

 

Her heart tightened in her chest as the soft, choking sound of Shyvana’s sobs rung in her ears. She froze and looked over to find the tearstained scales of the dragon’s face. Sheer dread gripped her heart, paralyzing her thoughts; biting her lip to steady her nerves, she tensed her fists and leaned over on the bed, shaking Shyvana by the shoulders.

 

“Why are you crying? Hey!”

 

No answer came.

 

"Shyvana!"

 

With a subdued gasp, the dragon’s dazed, golden eyes glanced up to meet her. "W-what?" the dragon choked out, each eye blinking separately.

 

"Did I hurt you?" Syndra demanded.

 

“No,” Shyvana said, looking back at her with an utterly confused expression.

 

"Why are you crying, then?"

 

"Crying?" Shyvana reached up to her own face and stared at her tear stained fingers in surprise. "No, I ... jussst, one minute. I’ll be fine."

 

Syndra sat back, crossing her legs. She propped her head on her hand, waiting for her lover's ragged breathing to steady.

 

"Did I ssscare you?" Shyvana asked.

 

Letting out a stressed sigh, Syndra ran her fingers through her silvery bangs. "I thought I hurt you."

 

A reassuring smile spread across Shyvana's face. "No, quite the opposssite," she noted with an air of teasing. She laughed in earnest from the playful slap on her butt and reached head-to-toe in a full body, cat-like stretch, her crimson hair sprawling messily across her shoulders and chest, casting a wild allure to her draconic beauty.

 

"Hmmph. Dragons!" the sovereign remarked, rolling her eyes with exasperation as she fell over backward on the bed to join her. Relief quashed what remained of her fear, the tension quickly bleeding away as Shyvana grabbed onto her thigh with her rough, scaly hands and crawled halfway on top of her. Cracked magmatic veins bloomed across her cheeks, a draconic blush that still made Syndra smile.

 

Shyvana leaned down, locks of her red hair spilling onto Syndra's silver. Their noses rubbed past one another, their lips meeting in a sweet, gentle caress. The dragon's hand cupped Syndra's cheek all the while, her thumb running affectionate little circles along it. They parted quietly with a pop of their lips, both fresh with the tasteful reminder of the other.

 

"I'm ssspent," Shyvana declared, dipping down and burying face into the crook of Syndra's neck.

 

A bark of laughter erupted out of the sovereign. "Really? Were you not simply warming up?" Syndra looped an arm around her, hugging the hot woman to her in spite of her own sweating.

 

As they settled down and laid there in contentment, Syndra stared up aimlessly at the ceiling, a trickling of concern nagging at her all the while. She considered keeping it to herself, but the flash of Shyvana’s tear-stained face in her mind urged her to push forward.

 

"Are you alright?" she asked in a hushed voice.

 

"Mmm, yesss," the dragon purred, squeezing closer. She snorted amusedly as Syndra's hand squeezed her back. "It'sss been a while, that'ss all."

 

"But  _are_  you, really?"

 

A minute of silence hung between them, long enough that Syndra began to wonder if she had misunderstood.

 

"It's nothing."

 

"Shyvana …"

 

"Nngh," the dragon grumbled in her throat. Her fingers squeezed at Syndra's soft skin, almost kneading her. "People … they see my ssskin and think I'm sssomething  _exxotic_ ; a prized little notch to have on their belt."

 

The sheer venom in her voice sobered the sovereign with frightening quickness. She was half ready to rub her back, but stilled as the next hateful words came.

 

"The onesss who didn't look at me like that tassste of fear instead when the heat and flame comesss. Maybe they 'understand', until I've burned a hole through a wall or ssscorched their hair. Every time, it's alwayss the sssame."

 

When the heat rose again, Syndra knew it wasn't from pleasant excitement. She laid her hand on Shyvana's back, rubbing the dragon as she continued.

 

"Ssso I sstop the fire, I choke it in my throat, even when it hurts me."

 

"Shyvana," Syndra commanded with her imperious tone, giving the dragon a shake. She met those golden eyes head on, stoic in the face of the roiling hatred a lifetime of cruelty had left scarred in them. "You do not have to worry about that with me."

 

The dragon stared her down, nose twitching with every deep, rumbling breath she took. Slowly, the creased scowl on her face loosened and the red bleeding into her molten gold gaze receded. A small smile cracked across her thin lips and a dry, almost exhausted, chuckle followed.

 

"I know."

 

Syndra blinked, frowning thoughtfully. "You do?"

 

"I've known ssince we first became friendsss," Shyvana said, smiling more earnestly now. "You know what it'ss like. You're thisss … perfect fucking woman, even when you pissss me off. It pisssess me off just thinking about it, actually."

 

The horrible tension that worried Syndra disappeared as the dragon's face softened into a dreamy eyed stare she'd never seen before. She finally relaxed into the bedding, hugging Shyvana to her and rubbing her back with all the reassurance she could.

 

"My woman isss too powerful to be afraid of a little fire," Shyvana teased, reaching her hand between Syndra’s legs and spreading her fingers to cup her womanhood possessively.

 

Syndra jumped slightly, a thrill of anticipation welling up inside her. She mustered up a look of cool disregard and quirked her brow, looking back at Shyvana. "Am I now?"

 

"Ssso tall and fair, with big breassstss I jusst want to sssuck all day."

 

"They are not  _that_  special …"

 

"Are you ssserious?"

 

Syndra's coy comeback disappeared behind an inhale as a scaled hand grasped her breast, pushing it up and groping all in the same motion. She couldn't help shuddering as her over sensitive nipple rubbed against that rough skin, but it was Shyvana's heated look that made her truly tingle with excitement.

 

"Maybe I am."

 

"You won't be when I'm done with you, woman."

 

 

{THE END}


	3. Our Quiet Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To strive and struggle for years to achieve that one moment where all our life has meaning. The future’s toil is yet unwritten, but for Shyvana, a morning with Syndra shows all the joys she’s longed for, and all the struggles yet to come.
> 
> Relevant tags: F/F, Lesbians Hooray

One can train their punches to break steel.

One cannot undo the pain such hands endure for that strength.

 

*~*

 

In slumber's murky abyss, the rhythmic patterning of something roused her. One pointed, scaled ear awoke with a quickness imprinted from years of survival. Water droplets splattered on shingles and wood, an odd far cry from the cold stone and glass she was used to hearing. It was only rain, a conclusion her instincts were satisfied with.

 

That singular moment of urgency, however, wrest the peace of sleep away from her.

 

Inhaling with a deep, chest-expanding lungful, Shyvana gold eyes blinked open, working away the morning blur. The rain's gentle song greeted her in a calming embrace, a reminder of tranquility that beckoned her ease. A flower-patterned paper ceiling greeted her clearing vision, an unusually large, black scorch mark across its creamy expanse. She stared at it, not all her thoughts together, and old habits returned once more.

 

Her fingers twitched and curled shakily into fists; her toes and calves flexed. With a little focus, her abs and thighs tightened and relaxed, and her shoulders rolled off their stiffness. A weight on her arm, however, kept that thoroughly pinned.

 

The dragon looked to her side and found the fair backside of a beautiful woman, a long mess of white hair strewn across her creamy, unblemished skin. An elation lifted her heart at the sight and before she knew it, that difficult way of smiling came to her. Shyvana let out a soundless exhale, the last of her tension bleeding away into the rain’s song.

 

_When did you roll there, hm?_ she thought, wiggling her arm. As  much as she would have loved to stay there, watching Syndra's sleeping chest rise and fall, her numb arm was a problem. With a skill born from years of starry-eyed tavern wenches and clingy army cadets, Shyvana wormed her arm free, leaving her lover undisturbed. Massaging the numb appendage, Shyvana grimaced at the tingly pins and needles dancing down all the way to her finger tips. _You're supposed to sleep on me, not my arm._

 

For as much as she loved when women slept on her chest, being a natural furnace made it difficult for them. She understood, but it didn’t sting any less when they were as far as they could be in the bed by morning. Syndra, however, made it work—she hadn't a clue how, but the sovereign always stayed near her. Shyvana's inner cuddlebug gleefully marked that off on a growing list of things she adored about the Ionian.

 

Scratching at her bed head, Shyvana finger-combed through the long red locks and their small snarls. Her slitted eyes lazily surveyed the dim bedroom, the cloudy morning sun spilling through the paper screen windows and the garden door. They settled on a porcelain tray sitting right next to the futon. A fleeting memory returned to mind, a scoff from Syndra at the very idea of having the tray around.

 

_And this is why I had you get one,_ she thought smugly, leaning over. Plucking up a fine white cloth, Shyvana dipped it in a tiny washbasin before scrubbing her face. Once freshened up, she worked on the rest of herself, cleaning away the grimy spots the night left behind. _I don't have to get up._

 

Her eyes stayed on Syndra while she worked, drinking in the enticing beauty laid next to her. The Ionian kept fit for a mage, pleasing dips and a firmness lining her back, yet still graced by those soft spots she loved finding. Small stains of red dotted her creamy skin, echoes of where Shyvana's own hands were, a reminder that left the dragon pleasantly warmer. Her gaze couldn't help going towards the big, bubbly butt peeking out from the bedsheets, Syndra's perfect globes beckoning.

 

_Maybe later,_ Shyvana reasoned, burying her temptation enough to chuck the cloth back onto the tray. Satisfied at her cleanliness, she scooted across the futon and slid up against Syndra's inviting back. Mindful to not wake her up, the dragon looped an arm around Syndra’s belly and squeezed the two of them together, relishing the soft skin kissing her.

 

"My perfect little treasure," she mumbled, nuzzling into thicket of hair at Syndra's neck. The delicate scent of a flower–she had no idea what–graced her nose. Between Syndra's perfume and natural aroma, the flowery flagrance fit just right, even if she found such things annoying otherwise. She kept her nose free just enough for clean air, though.

 

The rain and her lover's sweet scent lulled Shyvana into a wondrously calm place. Her thoughts quieted, worldly concerns centering on Syndra's closeness, a half-aware urge that made her hug the woman closer. Her hand lazily explored, venturing across Syndra's belly and side, teasing the tops of her thigh, and skimming just beneath those lovely breasts. There wasn't a destination, only a need to reacquaint herself again with each little spot.

 

No one thing sufficed without the other, for every inch of Syndra fit so together so flawlessly. Long, flowing white hair, a hefty bosom caught her eye even under a dress, a delicious set of curvy hips and long legs that gave her the world's best butt. Shyvana grinned as she traced her fingers down Syndra's side, imagining every part her hand wasn't at.

 

Shyvana wondered how Syndra might be if she woke up in that instant. Languid, perhaps indignant, but she knew how to make the haughty woman preen to her attentions. Syndra's sharp will wouldn't ever own up to such a thing, glowering with that condescending look even as her lips trembled and a blush stained her face. That look alone spurred many of her fantasies late at night, just imagining the sovereign keening for her release with a slack to her domineering glower.

 

A lowly moan jarred her wandering thoughts aside, making Shyvana take stock. Her roaming hand nearly tipped between Syndra's shut thighs, snug in the tuft of white hair above her mound. She considered going deeper for a moment, but pulled her fingers back, feeling her way to Syndra's other side. A wicked thought made her stretch her rough, scaly fingers around the Ionian's rump. She grasped the full globe, appreciating it with a slowly tightening squeeze.

 

The mage stirred, her feet crossing and her head craning to the side, but she didn't wake up.

 

Shyvana listened to the slow breathing and felt Syndra's tiny twitches, both from a sleepy dream and her own wandering hand. Idle thoughts flitted by, notions of breakfast or what to do for the day blissfully irrelevant as she listened to Syndra’s breathing.

 

Her hand curled to a point, one lazy finger trailing up the sleeping mage's side toward her chest. Shyvana smiled as she found Syndra's one of big breasts, so beautifully flopped to the side. She dipped her finger into the little nook between breast and chest, tracing the curve into the cushy valley her bosom made. With how the bedroom air thickened as her finger teased, the dragon couldn't help smirking.

 

_Ah, there's her magic,_ she mused, the extraordinary power teasing her as a calm ocean would wash on the shore. Most mages tended to spew magic out like fountains, but Syndra's simply _was_. How or why eluded her, but the very world around the sovereign bowed in ways she couldn't fully explain. The still waters rumbled would awake long and Shyvana couldn’t resist teasing that immenseness a little more.

 

Grinning slyly, she ventured upward with her finger. The ever-slightly-rougher texture of Syndra's areola slid under her finger until she pressed against her sleeping nipple. She rubbed it in slow circles, feeling the plump tit stiffen from its sleepy self to one begging attention. With her thumb and forefinger, she captured it, rubbing back and forth until it was hard as could be. A girlish gasp escaped from her lover when she gently pinched, one of sleep as much as arousal.

 

Shyvana propped her head up with her other hand, vividly watching the sovereign's groggy awakening. Syndra stretched all the way up with her arms while her legs straightened, her whole being trembling. Two golden eyes couldn't help enjoying how cute Syndra's half-awake efforts were and the dragon kept still all the while, quietly holding her breast.

 

Alas, seemingly ignorant of her, Syndra sat up just enough to draw her incredibly long hair straight, gathering up all the loose strands in a practiced motion. The white tangled mess looked to need quite a brushing, something Shyvana noted for later. Blinking her faintly glowing eyes, the mage's dazed gaze swept around the room until she found who was watching her.

 

Their eyes locked together, a delightful swirl of desire, happiness, and contentment whirled in Shyvana's head. Syndra, powerful and world shaping, sat before her as a gorgeous woman with the most beautiful, sleepy morning smile. Shyvana's hand rose slowly, the back of her fingers coming to rest against the mage’s cheek. She brushed away some stray hairs, her blue skin sharp against the creamy white.

 

"Is there something on me?" Syndra asked, her frown not as elegantly refined as it could be.

 

"No," Shyvana muttered, turning her hand to cup the woman's cheek fully. Syndra’s sharp feature, yet soft skin, elated her as the sovereign nuzzled into her palm with warmest morning eyes she'd ever seen. Heat bubbled in the dragon’s own cheeks and she knew those stupid lines had to be visible with her blush.

 

With a soft, airy giggle, Syndra poked at Shyvana's nose, making the dragon go cross-eyed. "Good morning."

 

"Hmph, good morning," the dragon responded lowly, a toothed grin coming out. She snaked her other arm around and reached for Syndra's plump butt with strong, playful squeeze. The surprised little gasp that followed made her grin widen, but she kept herself back, content to hold her.

 

"I just woke up and you want to again?" the sovereign grumbled despite how she leaned in closer.

 

"I can wait," Shyvana purred, her butt grabbing hand sliding suggestively back and forth. The exasperated groan Syndra made stirred a hearty chortle from her. "Shush, woman, let me hold you."

 

A flair of that familiar combativeness flew through Syndra's glowing eyes, but it was gone as quick as it came. Grunting, she hugged herself closer and buried her face into Shyvana's neck. "It is far too early for this."

 

"Is it?"

 

Incoherent, ticklish mumbling answered back and she smiled, unable to resist poking the grumpy mage a little. Settling back onto the futon fully, Shyvana pulled Syndra on top of her, letting the taller Ionian squirm into perfect cuddling position. Taking advantage of the opening, Shyvana set a hand on Syndra's back, sliding it up and down with frank appreciation. Her possessive side preened at how the Ionian pressed closer in tiny opening moves, offering more to her hand.

 

The two of them laid there quietly, Syndra's softness molded to Shyvana's scaled body. The dragon relished it all, keenly aware of those hefty breasts pressed into hers, that kissable belly flush to her rock-hard abs. She tempered her urge to hug harder, to squeeze her lover tightly to her, to take in every part of her and more that she could. Such a fiery desire burned away the lull of slumber and peace, her heart beating excitedly, but still she waited.

 

Massaging Syndra's butt was more than an enough for the moment.

 

"You can use the other one, you know," the airy quip whispered into her ear.

 

Shyvana's heated thoughts paused in confusion. A moment's consideration and she realized her hand had only been on one cheek the entire time. Chuckling, she dragged her hand across and teased the dip of Syndra's rump before she squeezed the ignored side greedily. Those creamy white hips rolled into her lazily as Syndra's long legs slid into straddling her hips proper.

 

"How do you have so much energy?" Syndra wondered aloud in a breathy exhale, her warm breath billowing into Shyvana's neck. One pointed finger twirled on the dragon's shoulder, aimlessly following the erratic scale pattern.

 

"A peaceful morning with a gorgeous, naked woman on my chest?" The dragon remarked with a thoughtful hum, her free hand snaking across the broad of Syndra's back. " _My_ beautiful little mage?"

 

"I am taller than you," Syndra cut in dryly before she caught her scaled ear in her lips.

 

"Not on your back you're not," Shyvana returned, tapping Syndra's butt with her fingers in a stiff, very light slap. She grinned at the way the sovereign jumped and the girlish squeak that escaped her.

 

"Do not think with how tender I am right now that I am easy," Syndra whispered darkly.

 

Despite her smile, a tiny worm of an idea arose in Shyvana's mind. An old fear, one buried in the earth of old and which she sought to keep there, inevitably returned. Although Syndra always insisted, she wondered how much someone so soft could take with her rough strength.

 

"Are you worried again?"

 

"I ... what?"

 

Startled awake, Shyvana could only watch as Syndra's head lifted into her vision, glowing eyes creased with annoyance.

 

"You are."

 

"No, I'm not," she defended lamely, more surprised at being found out. "Why do you say that?"

 

The annoyance became irritation.

 

"The only time you are not purring is when some silly fear is in your head."

 

"It is not silly! I–what do you mean, purring?"

 

All of Syndra shifted from the snuggly, goopy mess of cuddles into a solid and firm, fire driven purpose. She pressed in, not to hug, but to rub, the entirety of her commanding Shyvana's body awake. Her face leaned in, those glowing eyes crackling, and all her weight went into a smothering kiss. The tiny gasp from Shyvana was swallowed by her plump lips and that tongue delving inside, plundering her willing mouth with such desire.

 

Barely recovered from her surprise, Shyvana found Syndra slipping away, those wettened lips dragging all the way to her ear.

 

"Grab me," the sovereign demanded, nipping at scaled ridge.

 

"What?"

 

One boney, articulate hand grabbed Shyvana's and forced her onto Syndra's bubbly butt. "Grab me, Dragon. Do it like I am the gold you desire so much."

 

The taunt prickled Shyvana's pride and she obliged with a hard squeeze, the luscious skin of Syndra's rump enveloping her fingers. She scoffed at the tiny, mockful fight that followed and pulled Syndra into more, just enough to keep her in place.

 

"Yes, like that," the Ionian hummed, her whispery breath in Shyvana's ear. The very sound stirred the dragon's blood, a flush warmth arising from her core. Yet, her fears remained, a concern that not even lust could diffuse.

 

"Syndra–"

 

"What, exactly, are you concerned about?" the sovereign's cut her off, her voice resonating in the quiet bedroom.

 

"I don't want to ..." Shyvana mumbled, feeling Syndra's very presence leering down. Her hardy eyes turned aside. "You know, hurt you, because I'm rough."

 

Of everything she might've expected from such an embarrassing confession, giggles wasn't one of them. Blinking at the girlish sound, she laid there as Syndra shook with amused laughter, uncertain if she should be offended or relieved.

 

"Do you forget that I desire such roughness?" Syndra intoned, airy and amused. She sank a little lower, nuzzling into Shyvana's mess of red hair, her lips resting on the crook of her neck. "Hmm? Do this, then," she commanded, grasping for Shyvana's hand once more. "Take me as you would, no thoughts of fear. Enjoy me, little dragon."

 

Even as Syndra emulated an encouraging grope with her hand, Shyvana's sensed something else going about.  The thrum of power coursed in the air, mute beneath the rain, but a sheer presence that goaded her ego as much as her lover's taunt. The dragon raised a hand, only to find a vice-grip of something unseen locking it in place, not even her skin twitching.

 

"You will not go far from where I want."

 

In what wasn't the first time, she had to remind herself how fantastical Syndra actually was. The Ionian could be a soft beauty on the eyes and hands, but she wasn't a push over by any imagination. The invisible grip disappeared as the magic in the air simmered and that fathomless ocean of power calmed again.

 

"You like it rough, hm?" Shyvana growled playfully, flexing her fingers.

 

"Did I say that?" Syndra smiled into Shyvana's neck.

 

With a grunt of a laugh, Shyvana grappled the Ionian's backside and rolled over. A sweet, airy laugh joined hers, a tangle of sheets snaring their legs as the dragon pinned Syndra to the futon, and those creamy legs spread across her scaled hips. Half-lidded glowing eyes peered up at her, Syndra's long finger rubbing invitingly at the bottom of her own lip; her messy bed head of white hair splayed around her with the allure of an unwitting temptress.

 

For as many other women she'd seen, Shyvana's blood never thundered so much as it had with her. Desire, once so difficult to conjure, came easily, and she laid atop the soft skinned woman with a commanding angle. Gazing deep into her eyes, she took hold of her breast fully, and the inhale that followed made her smile lecherously.

 

Words were said but they flew past Shyvana as she hugged to Syndra and laid claim on those open lips still smeared with last night's lipstick. She kissed hard, drinking in their plumpness, wetting them with flicks of her tongue and popping suckles. Syndra arched in a wave beneath her, pressing closer, legs snug around her hips, her warmth inviting Shyvana in.

 

Her blue fingers slipped around Syndra's head, delving into those long white locks with a determined grip. Pulling the mage back slightly, she pried open her mouth with her own, finding an eager moan greeting her long tongue as she went in between those lipstick smeared lips.

 

She couldn’t help preening with victory, greedily tasting every succulent inch she visited. Syndra’s own eager embrace spurred her on, their bodies squeezed together as tightly as their mouths. Her breast holding hand slid down and sank into her lover’s grinding hips, taking perch to help in the haphazard grinding.

 

The rain song was broken by their half-formed moans and the wet pop of their gasps, and Shyvana shuddered as heat bloomed within. Syndra’s hands flew onto her back, desperate to hold as she broke the kiss with her resonant cries.

 

“Yes! Keep moving!”

 

Shyvana licked her lips of spittle and sank her teeth on the Ionian’s delicate neck with a throaty suck. The thumping pulse of blood coursed under her lips, Syndra’s very excitement dancing against her licking tongue. The hands and legs upon her tightened and she ground the entirety of herself with abandon, their hair a wild mess, the sheets snaring the two of them together.

 

The wetness between their legs flowed freely, a slippery mess of their love that left their nerves sizzling for more. Their womanhoods pressed against each other and their thighs, sloppy and fitful in their fervent pace. Every stroke of smooth skin against Shyvana’s clit shocked her fiery blood, stirring deeper growls as her body grew tight and tense.

 

Her hands fisted the futon as she grabbed for leverage, golden eyes fixated on Syndra’s red-stained face. Every part of her scale skinned prickled, and a desire deep from within, her very instincts overcoming her, and she _ground_ against the sovereign. Their breasts smashed together as Shyvana rocked her hips into Syndra’s, asserting as much as she could every time their pussies ground together.

 

Nary a thought but desire compelled her, a primal urge to make her beautiful lover know who she belonged to. With all her body singing with fire and sex, Shyvana let out a stuttering, victorious growl, the drunken pleasure of dominance thundering in her blood. The electric joy of release jolted through her, every inch of her body jerking as release spilled and her nerves sang their joy.

 

Through the fired haze of sweat and moans, Shyvana found Syndra slackening around her, an incoherent mumbling tickling her ear. The mage laid beneath her, not an ounce of muscle left in her, and the primal desire in the dragon was satisfied. She groped at Syndra blindly, enjoying what parts of her lover’s owned body she wanted.

 

Panting for air, Shyvana drank in the sight and smells, satisfied in a way that she hadn’t expected. Her boiling blood demanded more, its ever insatiable hunger for greater release, but she tempered it with Syndra’s sweating, slick body.

 

“Take you asss I would, hmm?” Shyvana recalled, her growly voice a bit deeper. “Did my woman forget how I like taking her?”

 

A familiar look of indignation passed through Syndra’s eyes, but it only stroked Shyvana’s ego. With a laborious effort, she sat up with her arms, leering down at her panting lover. Mere minutes ago Syndra thought to be mocking, but a perverse pride swelled at the sight of how spent she’d made the sovereign.

 

Reluctantly, she worked on rolling off of Syndra, and the two of them groaned as their skins kissed one another. Their hair and sheets tangled together, and that alone took several minutes for them to free each other. Scratching her sore head, Shyvana chuckled and awkwardly reached over to the forgotten tray, drawing a curious look.

 

“What are you doing?” Syndra mumbled, lazily trying to tidy herself up without much success.

 

“Finding a cloth, I’d hope,” Shyvana remarked, eying the white fabric in her hands suspiciously. Syndra’s giggle made her smile and she readied the cloth. Bringing its cool wetness to the sovereign’s face, she gently wiped around her mouth.

 

“Oh, it’s cold,” Syndra cooed as Shyvana went to her cheeks and forehead. She followed along every stroke, presenting the best openings with a regal appreciation. Laid down as she was, her eyes shut, an unintelligible but pleased murmur coming out.

 

The dragon diligently worked, not bothering to hide her blatant caressing. It was a delightfully torturous tease in its own way; the lustful fire rippled at how soft and supple Syndra’s skin was, blocked by a thin layer of fabric. A half-formed idea came to throw the cloth away, but she kept at it, tempering the urge with her desires to make Syndra comfortable.

 

_Here I am, cleaning someone else,_ Shyvana thought with a chuckle, finding nothing wrong with the idea. One glowing eye cracked open, giving her a curious look.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Tell me.”

 

“Well, I’ve already told you you’re beautiful.”

 

“I could stand to hear it again.”

 

Shyvana chortled heartily as she threw away the dirtied cloth and got another. She began again at Syndra’s neck, mindfully cleaning where the faint line of her lips left a mark. “Your ssskin leavess my handss and, heh, mouth, tingling. Sssoft and tasssty,” she said, finishing with an audible bite of her teeth.

 

Her hands went lower in spite of the disbelieving snort, looping around to Syndra’s captivating breasts. “Your breasts are so big, but always hidden in those dresses of yours. You know I want to tear them open, right? Just to hold them like this.”

 

“I have seen your eye once or twice,” Syndra remarked, pushing her chest up into Shyvana’s groping fingers. The wash cloth crawled across them, extra slow upon her erect nipples, drawing a delighted shudder from her. “And what would you do with them?”

 

“Make them know who they really belong to,” Shyvana said frankly, then grinned at the squinted gaze. “Maybe masssage them until their plump and tender afterward.”

 

“They are now, but I do not see any massaging.”

 

“Oh?” Shyvana echoed with offense, cupping Syndra’s bosom in her hands. She worked her palms in a rhythm, giving them the caress she’d promised. Working up from the very underside of her lover’s breasts, she made certain every part had its attention, even the pointy, erect nipples at the peak. Syndra’s airy inhale delighted her to hear and she couldn’t help give a tiny, playful jiggle of the sovereign’s huge bosom with her fingers.

 

Syndra spared her a dry look, but smiled all the same. She shifted on the bed, throwing her hair to the side and cocking her head against her hand. Seeming all the more comfortable now, an air of command arose in spite of her bedhead and flushed looks.

 

“Continue,” the sovereign purred, eyes narrowed.

 

Shyvana, confused at what had been happening, could only marvel at how effortlessly she’d been shown up. It pleased her in ways she didn’t bother to figure out, but she stuck out her tongue all the same. Syndra smiled with a sultry allure and Shyvana made a show of finishing, but all too certainly taking handful gropes until she was done. She especially rolled her palms and the wash cloth over Syndra’s round areola in a way that wouldn’t be _wholly_ satisfying.

 

The grumpy moan that came when she pulled away left her a little smug.

 

“Do I pleassse you now?” she asked with faux-servitude.

 

Syndra hummed thoughtfully, lifting her own hefty chest to inspect it. She didn’t bother hiding her own gloating smirk at how Shyvana watched a little too keenly. “Yes, this will do.”

 

“Ssso glad to be of ssservice.”

 

_Damnit, she got me again._

 

The dragon’s dry humor won her a giggle and she couldn’t help doing so herself. A lewd air hung about, but fun as well in a way she hadn’t had in a long time. The quiet morning rain felt so fitting for how warm their bedroom was, the light illuminating Syndra’s creamy nakedness in ways divinity would be jealous of.

 

Leaning forward, she perched ontop of the sovereign again, planting a sweet kiss upon her lipstick-smeared sexy lips. The two of them fell into an intimate caress, a naked hug that brought them so close together once more. Shyvana smiled and chuckled, happily rubbing against Syndra slowly.

 

“What is so funny?” the Ionian asked between their wet kisses.

 

“Jusst wondering,” Shyvana said much the same, “about sstaying in bed all day.” A hand of fine, long fingers snuck onto her rump, groping as hard as she had done earlier.

 

"What an idea that would be," the Ionian breathed, taking her mouth toward Shyvana's ear. "Ohh," she breathed out a moan, stirring a primal shiver from her draconic lover. "Laying here all day with those hands of yours? I might be able to do that."

 

Those very words sent an electric jolt down Shyvana's back, an excitement that lit her blood and nerves alike. "Ssshall we?" she whispered heatedly, her heart beating faster.

 

Syndra gave one long, thoughtful hum, before she grabbed Shyvana's shoulder and butt, then rolled the dragon right off of her.

 

"After breakfast and a stop at the bath house."

 

The dragon laid on the futon, blinking wildly as the sovereign rose up, disentangling herself from the bed sheets.

 

"But I - wait, what?" she sputtered, watching as Syndra smirked evilly down at her and turned away. Her eyes couldn't help going to the sight of Syndra's big bubble butt, jiggling tantalizingly with every step the mage took.

 

_Damnit, you can't tease me like that!_

 

*~*

 

“This is quite relaxing.” Syndra sighed pleasantly, laid back in the hot spring. The water rose to her shoulders, her head set on a small tower on the rocky water edge.

 

“You don’t ssay.” Shyvana, who laid beside her, spared a dry look.

 

“Hm? Do you not enjoy it?” Syndra asked with one eye cracked open.

 

“It’sss fine, the heat iss only a little lossst on me.”

 

“The heat … ah. Dragon. That would be a problem.” A minute of silence passed between them, Syndra’s frown deepening all the while. “Wait, how do you enjoy bathing, then?”

 

“Cold water.”

 

“Cold water?”

 

Shyvana shrugged, aimlessly staring at the rafters in the ceiling. “It relaxesss me more. Wakesss up my blood and mussscles.”

 

“Cold can be welcoming sometimes,” Syndra agreed. “But for me, this heat is wonderful on my soreness.”

 

An uncomfortable feeling jabbed its tiny daggers at Shyvana’s conscience. “Sssorry.”

 

“Spare me such drivel. Have you not once been sore after a workout?”

 

“Who hasssn’t?”

 

A surge of magic swelled in the air, wrapping its invisible tendrils around Shyvana. The dragon perked up in surprise as she was lifted over right onto Syndra’s lap. Blinking owlishly, she found herself comfortably nestled on the sovereign’s soft thighs and cushy breasts, a welcome change to the spring’s rocky floor.

 

That Syndra perched her head on top of hers, however, prickled the shorter woman’s pride a bit.

 

“Then I should massage you in turn, hmm?” Syndra mused aloud, her pointed fingers inching their way onto Shyvana’s modest breasts. Finger-by-finger they wrapped around them, grabbing hold with a possessiveness that surprised the Demacian.

 

"You could," Shyvana airily remarked, jutting her chest forward encouragingly.

 

“Perhaps even satisfy _you_ twice today, my greedy dragon?”

 

A practiced ear did not miss much, least of all such a change in tone. Shyvana stilled, wondrous if she had misheard. “What do you mean?” The fingers on her chest started their slow work, but Shyvana ignored them. “Sssyndra? You didn’t enjoy our morning?”

 

“Mmm, I did,” the sovereign hummed into the dragon’s ear. “Your eyes alight, a hunger for me that left my knees weak, that determined look I see in my dreams … oh, it was very enjoyable.”

 

“I—you sssound unhappy?” Shyvana asked aloud, as much to herself to Syndra.

 

“Why would you think that?”

 

“You didn’t get the, err, sssame, as I did?” Shyvana wasn’t sure how to broach such a topic. What came to mind was better suited for women she’d never see again, not the one she wanted every night. Creeping dread, that foul taste of failure, crept up in her throat at the thought.

 

“ … What?”

 

Shyvana turned part way around, her incredulous gaze meeting Syndra’s. The two of them sat there, utterly perplexed at what the other was saying.

 

“Can you tell me what we are talking about, exactly?” the sovereign inquired with a raised brow.

 

Scratching at her wet head, Shyvana huffed and shrugged her shoulders. “Did you enjoy our morning?”

 

“Yes?” Syndra intoned as if that could possibly be a wrong answer. “I was delighted to wake up to it.”

 

Although she felt as if she was still missing something, Shyvana squirmed her way back into her spot underneath Syndra’s chin. “It’ss fine, then. Let’sss do the massage.”

 

Syndra chuckled behind her, the motion jiggling her. Lithe fingers snuck their way into her hair, rubbing her scalp gently.

 

“What terrible stress you have. Why not lounge upon me, dragon, and enjoy my gift to you?”

 

The mage’s other hand, unoccupied, rose from the water, three fingers held up. Shyvana’s eyes crawled toward it as three familiar, marble-sized dark spheres warped into existence.

 

“I may be too sore, but they are certainly _eager_.”

 

A tiny, acknowledging ‘ah’ escaped Shyvana before Syndra set upon her.

 

=-=-=-=


End file.
